Red Ones
by elmopll
Summary: Set after Maya's death. Emily is extremely depressed, and Spencer is desperately trying to help. Angsty! Rated T to be safe.
1. A Dagger I See Before Me

Spencer Hastings checked herself in the glass panes of the door she was just about to knock on, smoothing down her wafts of brown curls and guiltily wiping around her lips. She sighed, a slight sound in the brisk breeze of a chilled afternoon, and wonder as to whether what approach would be best to knock on this door. Perhaps a straight-shouldered, confident pose? Parents always loved that one. But, she decided it would simply be inaccurate for the situation which she found herself in. However, a slouch with sorrowful big hazel eyes would not do it either. Before she could talk herself into running away from the house altogether, she abruptly pressed the doorbell, and took a breath, teeth immediately sinking into her lip.

The cheerful buzz of the bell resonated throughout the house, and Spencer shook herself into gear, presenting an understanding responsible smile, with arms by her side and her best warm expression. When the door swung open, however, the understanding responsible smile faded quickly. She froze, unsure of what to do. "Uh, hi-"

"Hello, Spencer." Mrs Fields greeted.

If greeted was the expression, Mrs Fields looked anything but greeting. Her hair was mussed, she had no makeup on, and a large fuzzy dressing gown enveloped her entire body. If Spencer had looked a bit closer, she would have seen signs of puffiness, hastily plastered over with foundation, around Mrs Fields' eyes. But, because she was maintaining her polite and helpful persona, she did not. "Emily's home?" She asked, and then immediately regretted it.

"Yes." Mrs Fields sighed, not sounding bitter about her daughter's situation, but simply matter-of-fact. Then, "Can I get you something to drink?" She added, remembering mom traditions.

"I'm fine, thank you." Spencer said politely. Then, she swung her satchel off her shoulder. "I'm here to help her with this weeks homework."

Mrs Fields nodded, having nothing more to say. Then, with a murmured "She's in her room", she drifted back into the lounge.

Spencer hoisted the satchel onto her shoulder again, and climbed the steps up towards Emily's bedroom, running her hand along the stair rail, gazing with a small smile at the pictures of Emily as a kid that hung proudly on the walls. She felt almost nostalgic as she paused at a picture of the grinning toddler, who was held aloft by her proud father in a turqouise swimming pool. The photo was labelled "Em's First Swim".

Mrs Fields had arranged the photos in a circular formation around the stair walls, so the further up Spencer stepped, the older Emily was in the pictures. It was strange that there was barely any of Emily when she was thirteen and over- in fact, there were none. Spencer concluded this must be because Emily had all those photos in her room. She didn't want to give any more thought to the matter. However, if she had really have thought deeper about it, she would have certainly uncovered the truth, what with the superior IQ she was so proud of. It was obvious to anyone with eyes.

She reached the final stair, and walked towards Emily's bedroom, knocking on the door three times. No response came.

Spencer's eyes narrowed. She knocked again, this time louder. Still no response came. She thinned her lips, grabbed the doorknob, and twisted the door open.

She gingerly walked into the room, unsure of what to expect, and relief was obvious on her face when she glimpsed Emily's jet hair spread across the pillows of her bed, and the covers pulled tightly across a prone body. The curtains were drawn, making the room stuffy and dark. Spencer shook her head in distaste, and, striding across, peeled part of the curtains open, enough to allow light to filter in. She stopped for a moment after doing so, and regarded the rubbish dump of a bedroom which lay before her.

You could barely see the floor for the amount of dirty clothes which were strewn across it, mingling with empty chip and cookie packets, congealed cups, stained tissues, scraps of paper, DVD and CD cases, ripped notepads, and random assorted pieces of technology. The shelves were no better- there was day-old food discarded all over the place, photos which had been slammed face down, sheets of paper topped by yellowed books. Spencer's expression was a comical one of pure disgust. She sent a glare of horror towards Emily's sleeping form, and shook her head in dismay. Setting her satchel down, she flipped a hairtie off her wrist, and pulled her hair into a tight ponytail. Then, she set to work.

Emily awoke about fifteen minutes later, her eyes screwed up against the introduced light, and emitted a low moan. Spencer paused mid-way through organizing the books that had been strewn haphazardly around the room. Emily groaned again, and flipped over, burying her face into the pillow. Spencer stood still with a book in her hand, carefully placing it in the correct alphabetical place, then walking to Emily's side. "Hey." She said.

Emily opened one bleary eye, blinked once, twice, three times, then shut it again. Spencer stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. Since awkward situations were never her strong point, she blathered,"I'm tidying your room. It's a complete trash heap. You should be taking better care of it."

Emily didn't even react. She was still curled on her side, eyes closed. Spencer shrugged, then went back to alphabetizing her books. She picked one up off Emily's bedside table and examined the cover. "_The 13 And A Half Lives Of Captain Bluebear_?"

Emily still didn't reply. "Looks interesting." Spencer remarked.

There was utter silence. For twenty minutes more, Spencer continued tidying, humming a tune to herself as she did so. "My head hurts." Emily muttered, out of nowhere.

Spencer looked up from her work to see Emily's hands clasped to her head, pain twisting her tanned face. "I'll get some painkillers." She said brightly, and bustled off.

When she returned with a glass of water and two little pills, Emily's eyes were shut again. "Oh no you don't." Spencer smirked, and banged down the water beside her.

Her eyes fluttered open again. "Why are you being the good samaritian?" She said scathingly. "Not like a Hastings to get her hands dirty."

They had warned her about this, Spencer remembered. They had warned her she wouldn't be her usual self. Warned her that the part of Emily, the cheerful always lovely good-natured part, was under lock and key for the moment being. They had said she could be aggressive and sensitive and just plain nasty. It was a symptom, they had said, and nothing to get worried about.

It didn't mean the comment didn't sting.

Spencer dismissed the hurt from her face and replaced it with a neutral expression. "Your room's a tip." She said blandly. "And you have work that I need to teach you."

Emily went silent again and turned her face into the pillow. Spencer finished tidying and reached into her satchel, unveiling a heavy folder of English work. "We're doing Macbeth at the moment." She said brightly. "I'm finding it really interesting. We've only got up to the three witches' speech, but so far it's been good."

No response. Spencer was uneasy, and blustered over it. "Math, we're doing scatter plots. Science, carbon chemistry. History, you've got a good dose of the Vietnam War to study. And Spanish, we're currently studying cafe language. The swim team sent you a message, by the way, they miss you. I think they're compiling a card but I probably wasn't supposed to tell you that, so pretend you don't know when they give it to you."

She flipped the book open. "Right. So in the whole chapter of Macbeth we've studied, we have Banquo, Macbeth, the Three Witches, Duncan and Malcolm. Now, if you want to do your end of year essay, and don't worry, I've photocopied the essay notes for you, on how the beginning of the text created the strong impression of at least one character, you can do that on the Witches. What I wrote is that you get a strong impression by when they refer to their familiars, and talk about how they-"

"Stars, hide your fires." Emily muttered.

Spencer stopped in shock. "Let light not see my black and deep desires." Emily finished, eyes hard and flinty.

Spencer's mouth gaped, and she quickly closed it, trying to move on. "Yes, Em, that's a good quote you could use for the turning of Macbeth, from a good if ambitious man, to a power hungry one."

She didn't know why shivers were racing up her spine, and panic felt the need to surge into her body. Perhaps it was the look in Emily's eyes that did it. The stony glare that resonated out, so unlike Emily, it was unnatural to see the pure anger. But behind it, she sensed a hopelessness, a tragic nature that made Spencer want to lean forward and grab her in her arms and hug all the pain out of her. It was such an un-Spencer thought that she had to shake herself. Perhaps they were all changing as a result of this.

For better, or for worse?

She hurried over the rest of Macbeth, and moved on to a safer topic- carbon chemistry. "This is a fractional distillator." She explained in her best teacher voice. "It splits crude oil into different hydrocarbons by heating it at different temperatures. For example, diesel fuel, is made up of hydrocarbons such as-"

"I'm bored." Emily said simply, and brutally honestly.

"Okay." Spencer agreed, trying to comply. "Well, we can do History next, if you'd like. The Vietnam War's really interesting. For example, did you know-"

"Nothing about a war!" Emily snapped.

Spencer went pale. Oh God, she'd really done it this time. They'd made her promise never to mention anything close to her Dad. Emily couldn't think like that. She was in a fragile state of mind as it was, let alone needing to worry about her Dad in Afghanistan. Spencer took a breath in, trying to mentally undo her mistake. "Okay." She said softly. "Okay. What do you want to do then?"

"I want you to leave me alone." Emily ordered.

Spencer nodded and stood. She stuffed her books back into her satchel quietly, and hooked it over her shoulder. Emily suddenly sat up. "They're putting me on meds." She muttered, her tone of disgust evident.

"Are they?"

"Doctor came in today and gave Mom red pills. I'm not stupid. I saw." Emily spat.

"They're going to help you." Spencer replied. "Your Mom wouldn't do anything if it wasn't going to help you."

"Red ones bring you up, blue ones bring you down." Emily would have done a perfect impression of St Trinians had it not been for the bitterness in her voice.

It was Spencer's turn to be silent. "I need to be brought up." Emily continued. "I need to be on happy pills! Get it! All those jokes about people having special needs and whether they've taken their pills this morning we make. And you know something funny? You know something really, fucking, hilarious?" 

Spencer had gone pale, and was holding on to the bedpost to keep her steady. "Is that," Em ranted, "That in the end, the happy one, the smiley one, needs the fucking happy pills. Isn't that just the greatest joke? Aren't you laughing Spencer? It's so funny!"

Spencer wasn't laughing. Spencer was trying very hard to stop tears from trickling out her eyes. And it wasn't working. "I'll be back with more work soon." She mumbled, and made her way out the door.

"Why aren't you laughing Spencer?" Emily questioned, even as Spencer closed the door. "It's the most hilarious joke ever told! Everyone's laughing! Everyones laughing at Emily! Come on, Spencer, come and-"

Spencer jammed her hands across her ears, blocking Emily's bitter laughter and cruel words, as a tear finally escaped her eyelid and she sank against the bedroom door, utterly heartbroken by the mental horror that her friend was going through, that she had only just seen a glimpse of today.

**Oh yes, very depressing and wonderful. :P One Shot unless people want more, I can see this being a proper story! In case you haven't figured it out, Maya's died, and Emily's utterly depressed. Spencer and other people are trying to help her but failing. Please review guys! :) **


	2. Teriyaki

Two days later, she was back. Still with perfectly brushed hair and a poised smile, armed with a satchel and a phone. Mrs Fields had the grace to disguise her surprise in seeing her. "Hello, Spencer." She smiled weakly. "Could you take this up to her?"

It was a simple, innocent, delicious slice of pie. Blueberry pie, Spencer noted, as she carefully took it from Mrs Fields' hands. "Did you make this? It looks great!" She burbled.

"No." Mrs Fields said blandly. "No. Do not eat it, by the way."

Spencer's eyes went wide. She knew exactly what Mrs Fields meant. She stared at the pie with horror and surprise. Mrs Fields didn't need to say, "It's for Emily alone." Spencer already knew.

"Right." She murmured. "Okay. I'll give it to her."

But she couldn't promise anything. Neither of them could. They shared a look of understanding between each other, and then Spencer blinked, and began climbing the stairs. Guilt gnawed away at her insides as she reached the top landing. Her hands were shaking.

She swung open the door without knocking and saw Emily, this time awake, still in her bed, with a gaze of first curiosity, then cynicism. "Hey." Spencer tried to smile. "Would you like some pie?"

"No." Emily said quickly, and turned her back.

Spencer set the plate down on the bedside table. "If you get hungry later, you can have that." She remarked.

"I won't."

Spencer nodded like she understood, when in fact, she had no idea. No idea of how hungry Emily actually was. Emily had gone without eating for three days now. She'd been surviving on water from the bathroom tap. Because her mom couldn't possibly have poisoned the water mains like she had poisoned every little snack that she'd offered Emily. If Spencer had looked, properly looked, around Emily's room, she would have noticed plates of untouched food. From porridge and cereal, to sandwiches and smoothies, and pasta and croissants, it was like the wreckage of a silently fought battle. Just looking at the pie made Emily's stomach rumble. She clasped her hands over it and looked away. _I will not be the weak one here_.

"So, Dr Sullivan is coming tomorrow." Spencer began. "She'll be doing a bit of counselling then. If you like, I can come too. But first I thought we could do some physical therapy."

Emily eyed her coldly. Spencer brushed it off. "We can go outside, and swim."

There was no response yet again. Spencer had been expecting this. "Come on." She said brightly. "Beautiful day outside, I bet you're itching to get back into the water. Here, I'll help you get changed and then we can go."

She went rifling through Emily's dresser until she found her swimsuit, shoved at the very bottom of the drawers, crumpled into a tiny ball. Her goggles and cap were also found in the same position- pushed right away from the rest of the other clothes, compressed into a heap, like Emily was trying to scrunch them away from everything. Spencer winced, her back to Emily, and then arranged her features into a smile and turned around. Emily's eyes were still on her. "Can you dress yourself, or do you want me to?"

Emily shook her head. "You're back so soon, Spencer. Aren't you sick of me yet?"

"No." Spencer retorted.

"My Mom is." Emily said, her mouth twisted in an imitation of a smile.

"Swimming." Spencer tried to bring the subject back on track. "Let's go swimming."

Emily picked up the goggles, cap and swimsuit, and chucked them wildly against the wall. "No." She said definitively, and sunk back into her bed.

Spencer patiently picked them up, and cradled them in her arms like a baby. "We can do something else. I thought maybe seeing a movie would be great. Or going bowling. Remember how much you love bowling?"

"I don't."

"Yeah, you do." Spencer finished. "We can go get something to eat after. I was thinking popcorn."

Emily's eyes closed. She was beginning to think. If she went with Spencer, and pretended to enjoy herself, she could get something to eat that would not be tainted with the red pills. But she had no wish to. She was listless. She was weak. She was drained and exhausted, even though she'd slept for a week. "I don't want to. I'm too tired." She moaned.

Spencer leapt upon the sign of emotion. "I know, Em." She crooned, and sat down beside her, rubbing her back. "I know. But trust me, this will make you feel better."

Emily didn't even respond. Spencer gently peeled the covers off her. "More than anything, I think you need a shower, Em. I can help you if you don't want to go swimming. It'll just do you good to feel the water on your skin."

She stood up, and it pained her to see how skinny Emily was as she lay on the white sheets. It had been two weeks since Maya's body had been found, and the bones were practically poking through Emily's wrists. Her hair, once lustrously wavy, was now like straw with grease. Her skin was suffering from little to no attention. Her eyes seemed permanently shadowed and swollen and her lips had cuts all around and through them. "So skinny." Spencer breathed, without realizing it.

Emily immediately flipped around, surprisingly fast for someone who barely moved now. "What?"

"You're really skinny." Spencer said again. "Do you want something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry." Emily refused.

Spencer could have grinned, because she had one more card up her sleeve. "Okay." She said soothingly. "But I bought you some sushi."

Sushi was and always had been Emily's all time favourite food. And right then, there was nothing she desired more. She chomped down again on her thin lips to stop her from saying anything. Spencer slowly pulled a tray of assorted sushi out from her bag. "Here, there's teriyaki chicken, tuna, salmon, beef bolgoki, all of your favourites."

Emily watched her every move like a wounded dog. She was struggling to control herself. Spencer gently pushed the sushi across to her. "Go on. You need it."

"I'm not hungry!" Emily snapped. "Take it away."

"I don't care if you're not hungry. You really need it right now. You're suffering." Spencer said sincerely.

Emily was finding it hard to drag herself away from the delicious-looking sushi. Her stomach was rumbling louder than ever. She stared at Spencer with hounded eyes.

_It's Spencer_, a voice said in her head. _Spencer. She's your best friend. She likes you. She wants what's best for you. Spencer would never hurt you. She's always had your back. _

Emily cupped the sushi box in her trembling hands and raised it to her mouth, examining it. _No pills, as far as I can see. Nothing. Maybe Spencer's just being nice. She doesn't know about the pills in the food. She's giving me food because she honestly doesn't want me to be hungry. _

She tore her eyes away from the sushi to glare at Spencer, who was sitting on the bed watching her, looking tortured. But as Emily stared her down, she switched the expression to a simple smile. "Go on."

Emily picked one roll of sushi up, between her thumb and forefinger, and slowly raised it to her lips, inhaling the salty scent of the tuna. Spencer was on tenterhooks. She kept her eyes on Emily's the entire time. So, she didn't miss a thing when they turned the dark shade they had when she'd quoted Macbeth. She saw the flinty, cold, furious look cloak her eyes once again. And she watched in horror as Emily dropped the sushi roll and threw it away from her. "You're working with her." She hissed in an accusatory tone.

"What?" was Spencer's immediate response.

"You and my mom. You're both trying to force those pills down my throat!"

Spencer opened her mouth to plead her honesty but Emily continued in a sing-song voice. "Clever Spencer, not clever enough. You'll have to do better next time. It's not the A+ you were wanting, I'm afraid."

Spencer blanched yet again. "Em, I'm your friend." She pleaded.

"Friend!" Emily laughed, the sound catching in her throat, turning it into something raw and ugly. "Friend! I have no friends! No one wants to be friends with me, no sir! Trust me on that one, Spencer. Everyone's against me. No more happy Emily, no more happy world."

They had told her she was convinced of people hating her. That depression, especially crippling cases like hers, made people believe the whole world was against them. That everyone wished to hurt them. That they had to fend for themselves. But the therapists saying those things, and Emily saying those things, were two completely different scenarios. It felt like Spencer's heart had been wrenched from her chest.

"Can I tell you something?" Emily leaned forward, her eyes yet again dark with rage. "I used to have a friend. She was my best friend."

_Oh, God_ thought Spencer. _Please God. Don't let it be any worse. No. _

"She was my best friend." Emily repeated. "She was clever, and funny, and always knew how to make me feel better no matter what. She was always there for me. She had my back. She defended me. She was the strong one. And she was so very pretty. And guess what?"

"I know, Em." Spencer whispered. "I know. We all know what happened."

"You do. I hear it's a famous story, a great comedy. Because, my best friend died, and happy Emily went bye-bye. The world turned black. A lightning bolt came down from the heavens and killed happy Emily. Isn't that a funny story? Emily Fields, the happiest girl in Rosewood High, was killed-"

Her sentence was cut off as Spencer latched her arms around Emily's skinny neck. "Stop, Em." She sobbed. "Please, stop."

"Get off." Emily snarled, and shoved Spencer away.

"I'm your friend, Em." She replied, choking. "I'm your friend, and nothing but."

Emily viewed Spencer with scarily vacant eyes. "You're not my best friend."

"I'm not." Spencer agreed. "I know I'm not. She's d-dead."

"A killed her."

"Yes." She nodded. "A killed her."

"I miss her." Emily said, seeming far away.

Spencer shook her head for a long time, slowly, wiping tears before saying "And I miss you.".

**More depressing :/ next chapter will probably be Hanna, Spencer and Aria at school, which will be more cheerful. Completely open to suggestions- again, I just made this chapter up from an inspirational idea from a friend. Please review! :) **


	3. Insults and Irony

Hanna Marin's eyes popped as she stared in a somewhat beserk fashion at her best friend, mouth gaping. "That's so not true!" She exclaimed.

"Do you want proof?" Aria Montgomery retorted, pulling a newspaper out of her backpack. "Look. Front page, Han. Now the whole world knows."

"Whole of Rosewood, anyway." Hanna grumbled, before skimming her eyes over the headline. "Well, we always knew he was a little bit nuts."

"Yeah, but not that nuts!" Aria said, shaking her head. "The school didn't, at least, for them to employ him."

"This is Rosewood High we go to, Aria. They would employ a beaver to teach science if it was willing to look to one side when Vice Principal Tamborelli takes his bribes."

"Too true, too true." Aria agreed. "Hey, there's Jane Bond. Let's go tell her the news!"

They were of course, referring to Spencer as she stepped in the school doors, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It had been yet another long night for her. She was beginning to suffer from insomnia now, though it was nothing new. She'd mainly suffered from it in the days when A ruled her life with an iron fist. Lying awake, frustrated and worried, was not exactly a novel concept.

Hanna and Aria practically skipped to her side. "Did you hear about Mr. Hodge?" Aria gushed, flapping a paper in Spencer's face.

"Coffee." Spencer grunted firmly.

She pulled a warm flask out of her seemingly bottomless satchel, took a long swig from it, and gasped. "Right. Now I can begin the day. What was that?"

"Mr Hodge." Hanna reminded. "Did you read the newspaper this morning?"

"No." Spencer replied, and squinted at the newspaper which was thrust at her. The article blared "Runaway Teacher Fakes Qualifications." Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Turns out, like any reliable source in the town can now tell you," Hanna said in a business tone, scrunching the paper away, "Mr Hodge, the Science teacher, was actually a fake who was pretending to be a teacher to get cash."

"The psychopathic one who the guys nicknamed 'ScoobyBot'?" Spencer asked.

"That's the one." Aria smiled. "And you remember why they called him that, right?"

"Cause he liked to shut people in his closet until they could recite the periodic table?"

"Not only that-"

"Because he taught us how to say in French 'That man is touching me and I don't like it'?"

"I remember that, but no-"

"Oh! Because when all the teachers cups went missing, and we found them hidden beneath the sinks in his lab?"

"Yes, but the reason they called him it is because Noel Kahn and his buddies went rifling through his drawers one time and found one drawer completely filled to the brim with dog biscuits, and the other stuffed with broken CDs."

"Oh, yeah." Spencer nodded, remembering. "I need more coffee." She added, and wandered off towards the cafeteria.

Hanna and Aria dashed after her. "I want to conduct an experiment." Hanna said thoughtfully. "Spencer, would you mind volunteering?"

"Depends what it is." she replied.

"I want to see if, when I cut you, if your blood is brown or contains unnatural amounts of caffeine."

"Har-de-har-har." Spencer said wearily.

"Good one." Aria gave an appreciative grin to Hanna.

"I mean it." Hanna continued. "You drink about seven cups per day."

"It's a good amount. Keeps me awake."

Hanna sighed, so ending today's battle in the never ending "Trying To Stop Spencer Drinking So Much Coffee War". "You know what we haven't talked about lately? Boyfriends!" She giggled in a high-pitched voice.

Aria rolled her eyes with a smirk, whereas Spencer grumpily replied "If you do that Barbie impression one more time, I'm going to mash this flask against your head."

"No, seriously, we actually haven't talked about boyfriends in ages. Aria?"

"Ezra's great." Aria grinned. "Do you know, yesterday, I asked him how long I would last in the Hunger Games, and he said I was certainly final three material!"

"Awww!" Hanna cooed.

"He couldn't exactly say you'd die within the first minutes, Aria, you might have dumped him." Spencer remarked dryly.

"Well, Spencer, how long do you think I would have lasted?"

"Two minutes tops."

Aria scowled at her. "And why is that?"

"Because you'd panic. And when you panic, you tend to flail everywhere. And when that happens, on a highly explosive platform, you'd trip over and die instantly."

Hanna began laughing. Spencer turned to her. "However, you, Hanna, would get so preoccupied in choosing the bag of weapons which goes most with your outfit, in the initial bloodbath, that I doubt you would notice when a Career stabbed you through the back."

Aria began laughing this time as it was Hanna's turn to frown. "So true, so true." Aria muttered.

"You wouldn't last too long either, Spencer. Without your coffee you'd fall asleep in the middle of the killing field."

"And that, dear Hanna, is my tactic." Spencer replied with a characteristic crooked smirk. "Because everyone will think I'm dead. I'll wake up a couple of days later, find out where the last victor is, kill him or her and then be crowned champion. Therefore, Spencer is the victor."

"Can we get back to the conversation topic of boyfriends?" Hanna demanded. "Talked to Toby much lately?"

Spencer shook her head. "No, I've been busy."

"Every day?" Aria questioned, disbelieving.

"Pretty much."

It was the truth. She had been busy every day over the past three weeks. Because she had spent every day round at Emily's. As soon as lacrosse training finished, on Mondays and Thursdays, she'd changed, showered, made herself presentable, then hurried over to the Fields house. Even on Saturdays and Sundays, she found herself trekking up the stairs into Emily's room. Emily was never grateful to see her. She was either asleep or scowling. Yet Spencer felt so happy every time she opened the door and saw Emily's head on the pillow that she forgot the bouts of anger and violence Emily was now prone to.

Sometimes, now, she didn't understand it. Why she felt so compelled to go rushing for Emily's house as soon as she had spare time. Emily didn't need her, most of the time. Emily simply sat and watched or slept while Spencer talked about her day, did her homework, or scrolled through Facebook. And yet, Spencer found her quiet, if sometimes bursting out in anger, presence comforting. Thinking of that, she opened up her phone and began composing a new message. She was aware now that Emily had her phone beside her on the bedroom table at most times.

**Hey, I'll be in late today because of more lacrosse. Mr. Hodge has left school. That's all of Hanna's gossip for now. See you soon- Spencer xx**

She closed the phone and nearly jumped back, startled by Hanna's expectant looming face. "You were just texting him right then, weren't you?"

"No." Spencer said quietly, beginning to brew her coffee.

"Yes you were, admit it." Aria butted in. "We're your friends. We know when you're lying."

Spencer shook her head. "No, I was texting Emily."

She watched the pair's faces with intrigue. Aria's eyes immediately fell to the ground, and her shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh. A bolt seemed to slide shut behind Hanna's eyes, and she pursed her lips. "How is she?"

"No better." Spencer admitted.

"That's where you've been, hasn't it?" Aria said with a touch of desolation in her voice. "You've been going around to Emily's house, rather than seeing or talking to Toby."

Spencer knew exactly where this conversation was going, and so turned back to her coffee worldlessly. Aria and Hanna crowded around her. Hanna sighed, before beginning the usual lecture. "Spence, there's nothing you can do. The therapists know how to handle it better than you do."

"Mmm."

"You being there isn't going to help her, you know that, right? It might feel like you are but you're not. She just needs her Mom and the therapist at the moment."

"And who told you that little nugget of information, Aria?" Spencer fired.

Aria and Hanna exchanged a glance before Aria replied: "The therapist, course, he said we need to be there but not smother her."

Spencer could have laughed. The very same therapist who had decided that beautiful Emily, smiling Emily, the Emily who was always quick to defend everyone, who was confident and energetic and always sweet, needed happy pills to maintain herself. The pills that had caused Emily so much pain through their very presence. She breathed a sigh, twisted her mouth, and moved on. The conversation floated back to Mr Hodge's dismissal.

Spencer sat, watching Hanna and Aria make jokes about him, with a deep pang within her chest. She was constantly checking her phone, something she reprimanded herself on doing, because Emily never replied. "Craaaazy Mr Hodge!" Hanna remarked, and Aria smiled, yet Spencer couldn't bring herself to.

She never laughed now, whenever anyone mentioned crazy people. And that was most teenager's subject of choice for humour. She sat through their jokes, their taunts, their mockery. Hanna got asked so often if she was off her meds, due to her hyper, happy nature, that she brushed past the comments with a smile and a comeback. Spencer watched with a scowl, a clenched fist, and an image of a skinny, haunted Emily in her head, that would not fade for at least half an hour.

It was funny, because depression was said to be a sole disease. It sucked the happiness and the energy out of one person, and one alone. Spencer called that bullshit. Watching Emily twist from a sunny, smiling, wonderful friend into a dark, violent and listless individual had not only ripped her heart out, it had torn it to shreds and roasted it over a slow fire. She'd watched the one girl who had always brightened her darkest days, fade into the dark herself.

And it was ironic, how possibly the darkest one of their little posse, the leader, the detective, the determined, arrogant, overachiever, competitive one, had plunged into the dark to save the good, kind, sweet, sensitive one. Spencer could have laughed at it. Except she didn't do that much anymore.

And why was that? Because she was tired, tired of the pain, of seeing her best friend like this. And yet she kept returning to Emily's side, every day, just to check on her and talk to her. She wanted to ease Emily's pain. But, by doing that, she was transferring some of it into herself inadverdently. The bell interrupted her angry thoughts about insanity and irony, and she downed the rest of her coffee, and ambled into class.

Hanna and Aria didn't like to visit Emily. Aria was so emotional, as soon as she saw the admittedly troubling sight of a much skinnier and less healthy looking Emily lying in bed, she burst into sobs, and left the room. Hanna tried to cheer her up fruitlessly. She made her usual jokes and wisecracks, and seeing Emily being unresponsive threw her into a deep funk, where she tried and tried again to make her laugh, and failed, until she was too embrassed to even do anything.

It made sense that Spencer could stand seeing Emily, and helped her in the way she did. Because Spencer had what the others didn't- determination, an iron will, and the ideology of having to do her best in whatever she did. Sure, she could be empthatic when she wanted to be. That had accounted for the two times she'd broken down in front of Emily. Yet she wouldn't let those two times faze her. And that was what marked her apart from Hanna and Aria. That she wouldn't tell herself she could do nothing for Emily. That she wouldn't let herself give up.

Because to give up, would be to give up on Emily, to let her go and let her flounder in the darkness alone. Hanna and Aria had brushed the guilt off with the therapist "knowing what's best" and left it at that. Yet Spencer refused to do that, because she had the sole belief that Emily would get better. No matter what any therapists, friends, or family said, they couldn't change that belief. No one could.

The rest of school passed in a blur. Lacrosse was barely even noteworthy, it was so fast. Spencer found herself knocking on the Fields door once again. Yet this time, it was opened with a relieved smile from Mrs Fields. "Hello Spencer." She greeted this time, and for once, actually looked honestly glad to see her.

"Hello." Spencer replied, with an equal yet fake smile.

Mrs Fields invited her inside once again, and allowed her smile to split her face. "She took her pills!" She blurted, in a hushed voice.

Spencer had to take a step back. Emily had finally decided to swallow the pills she so detested? "Really?" She said, incredulously.

Mrs Fields nodded. "She finally let herself. I think she was just too tired to continue."

Spencer had no idea what to do or say. "That's great." She managed, and Mrs Fields looked ecstatic. "I'll go and s-see her now."

As she climbed the stairs once again, she almost felt excited, if apprehensive. It was all she could do to stop herself from running to the room and flinging the door open. She took a deep breath in and splayed her hands, closing her eyes in silent prayer, then opened Emily's door.

It was a sunny day. Light was filtering through the open windows into Emily's now-neat room. And she was awake. As Spencer entered the room with wide eyes, Emily put down the book she was reading, and smiled for the first time.

Yes, smiled. Smiled in a way which made Spencer go weak at the knees in the biggest cliché possibly. Smiled in a way which lit up her whole face into a radiant ball. Smiled in a way that brought gushing onslaughts of memory into Spencer's head, of better times, when Emily had smiled at Spencer's witty retorts and sarcastic comments. "Emily." Spencer choked.

"Hello, Spencer." Emily greeted, and tears came flooding into Spencer's eyes for the third time. She broke the eye contact and looked away, scrubbing her hand across her face.

"Spencer." Emily said again, demand in her voice now. Spencer held a finger up. "Spencer!" Emily said urgently.

Spencer shook herself and stood up, facing Emily now. Emily looked hugely concerned. "Spencer!" She shouted.

"Yeah, Em, I'm right-"

"Spencer, wake up!"

"What?"

And with a jolting rush, Spencer's eyes flicked open as Noel Kahn, in his typical boorish fashion, decided to wake her up by entangling his hands in her wavy hair and pulling it, hard. She yelled in pain, enough to startle him to let it go, but the damage was done. As his friends exploded in gales of laughter, reality came crashing back down to her. She'd fallen asleep in Maths.

Aria stared at her, both shocked and worried. "Spencer, are you-"

"Fine." Spencer spat, stood up, and worldlessly excused herself to the bathroom.

_It felt so real._

**Next chapter I'm thinking of doing sort of a song fic. No, not like you know it, more a song I believe describes how Emily is feeling, and the lyrics intermingled with her actions. It may be quite like a diary entry, and I'm excited to start working on it. Please keep reviewing, I've read everyone's reviews and the sweet ones make my day. Seriously. I LOVE YOU ALL! Can't believe this has 21 reviews already, it's nuts. Please feel free to tell me if you don't like something as well, and I will do my best to tidy it up or get rid of it in the next chapters!**

**PLEASE REVIEW. I LOVE READING YOUR REVIEWS. xx**


	4. Lost In Stereo

**Emily POV**

Dear Diary.

Today was the same as any other day. I woke up sweating and gasping, hands clutching at my sheets, heaving with terror, besieged with nightmare images of a dark figure standing over Maya with a knife. My throat burned, and I knew I'd been screaming in my sleep again. I got out of bed this time, swallowed down some more water, until my stomach sloshed with liquid and I was sick and bloated. Then I went back to bed and slept. Sometimes, when I wake up, I play my iPod, or try to read a book. Not today.

My life now revolves around terrifying flashbacks and the sickening present. I am pulled from one to the next with the looping insanity that is my mind. It's a perpetual circle. I am either dreaming of Maya, or awake and reminded of cruel life. Insanity is repetition and solitude, someone said once. I can't remember who. But I can relate. I'm tired. Good night. The clock says it's 11am.

_Emily opened her eyes. She was outside the cafe once again, with a present cradled in her hands, and her phone jammed to her ear. It was getting later in the evening, and the place had just about shut up shop. Chairs were stacked onto tables, the lights were switched off, and a closed sign hung from the window, swaying in the breeze. The flutter of a bird caught her attention, and her eyes flickered up, to see a hazy sunset beginning to form. She smiled, pulled the phone from her ear, and knocked on the cafe door. _

_The sole figure inside the murky building was a lonely waitress wiping down the bench tops, curly black waves pinned neatly behind her head. And, as Emily listened, the waitress was playing some pretty loud music. The radio thudded inside the dark cafe, making it seem like an abandoned nightclub. Emily rolled her eyes and knocked harder on the closed door. The waitress still did not hear. _

_She recognized the track- Glad You Came by The Wanted. The waitress was wiping the bench tops and flicking her dark head wildly about to it. Emily watched as she dramatically threw her cleaning cloth into the ear and proceeded to dougie. A smile curled the tanned girl's face as the waitress madly danced around the floor, eyes closed and head bobbing, completely lost in her music. _

"_MAYA!" She yelled, finally, and the waitresses' eyes flickered open, and she froze._

_She looked guilty at first, but then saw Emily's hysterical laughter, and strutted to the door. "Well hello there, going to pick me up, Fields? I thought we could take the party here." She purred. _

"_Mmm, tempting, tempting." Emily agreed. "However, I spent $30 on your fake ID, so I suggest we go to the club because I don't want to waste my money."_

"_Oh, you have all the good ideas." Maya flirted blatantly, and her cocky grin grew wider as Emily blushed like she always did whenever Maya complimented her. "Come on in. I have to get changed out of this stuffy uniform, but then we can have some fun."_

_Emily ventured inside, switching a light on, wincing at the volume of the stereo. "I swear your eardrums must be busted by now." She shouted, fiddling with the knob on the machine. "You're not going to have any hearing by the time you're forty."_

"_Forty!" Maya snorted. "Who wants to be forty? Live fast, die young, that's the motto. I won't grow to enjoy my loss of hearing when I'm forty."_

"_I can see you being forty." Emily fired back. _

_Maya paused, picking up the cleaning cloth which she had chucked aside in her dancing fit. "Oh yes? Doing what?" _

_Emily's smile grew, as Maya turned to face her with a sultry look. "Well. I can see us being forty."_

"_Still being together?"_

"_Of course. And while I'm on the Olympic squad for swimming, you can be the high-flying fashion designer. We'll have a great three storey house. With a pool in the back, and a little garden for your roses."_

_Maya smirked. "And kids?"_

"_Twenty of those." Emily said with a self-assured nod, and Maya giggled. "No, I'm thinking two. A little boy and a little girl."_

"_Go on. I'm liking this."_

"_We're going to call the little boy Wayne." Emily said seriously, despite Maya's wincing. "After my dad. You can call the girl what you want."_

"_I'm thinking Tallulah." _

"_Second thoughts, we're calling her what I want."_

_Maya stuck her tongue out, but then said thoughtfully,"You're Mommy. I'm Mama."_

"_Why am I Mommy?" Emily asked, indignant._

"_You're so much more... mommy-ish." Maya laughed again at Emily's sulky pout. "Now, stop distracting me. I need to get changed."_

"_I'll only hold you a minute more." Emily promised, and took two strides towards her girlfriend, whispering "Mama" in her ear, before she kissed her._

_Maya emerged from the toilets three minutes later in a dark green tank top, a leather jacket, and black jeans. Emily nodded approvingly. "I have something that'll go great with that." She advised. _

"_Oh, yeah?"_

"_Yeah. In fact, I think I have it... Oh!" Emily acted surprised as she produced a silver package from up her sleeve. "Now how did that get there?"_

"_It's magic!" Maya breathed, pretending to be starry-eyed. "But aw, Em, you shouldn't have."_

"_I should have. I saw it in the shops yesterday, and I thought, if there's one thing I'm going to get you, it has to be this. I think you'll love it."_

_Emily pushed the present into her hands, and Maya, with a loving smile, unwrapped the silver paper. "Oh." She whispered, as the present fell out into her hands. "Wow, that really is beautiful."_

_She held a golden necklace in her hand, that was sculpted to look like a model of a mortar bomb. From either side of the bomb, angel wings protruded. Maya rolled it in her hands with awe. "Emily..." She said quietly. "I love it. But how does it remind me of you?"_

"_Cause you're the bomb." Emily grinned cheesily, and Maya shot her a look of skepticism. _

"_No, no. Because firstly, it reminded me of you because you're like that. Your personality is like a ticking time bomb. That's not a bad thing!" She said hurriedly, as Maya's eyes narrowed. "You're crazy, in a good way, and can detonate at any time. You're young, and a badass and you can take on the world all by yourself. I don't think you realize it, but whatever you do, has a massive impact on this little fact, wherever you go. Wherever you're dropped, see, going with the bomb metaphor, you'll have a massive impact, and people will always know you for that."_

"_But here," She went on, tracing the angel wings that were welded to the bomb, "Here is another part of you. You can have such a massive impact, but at the same time, you're also as free as a bird. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, you'll always carry this sense of freedom with you. And that's one of the many, many things I love about you."_

_Maya's eyes had softened now. "Well, what do you think?" Emily asked earnestly._

"_I think you are absolutely cray cray." Maya stated, before pulling Emily that inch closer. "And I love you."_

"_I love you too." Emily whispered, and leant in for the kiss again, just as the radio exploded into Avicii._

Spencer had arrived early at Emily's, today. School had been closed due to a gas leak. Spencer certainly didn't want to venture home, where a bitter, often downright creepy Melissa, and a secretive, ignoring mother lurked. Let's not forgot the scheming Dad who was still trying to bribe his way back into her love. She shuddered as she remembered his latest effort- a new tennis racquet. Top of the line, incredibly expensive, proven to increase your game. Everything Spencer wanted in tennis, but funnily, exactly what she didn't need- another bribe.

So she'd arrived, made the usual awkward conversation with Mrs Fields, and walked upstairs to find a sleeping Emily. She tidied the room, again, then sat down and proceeded to start on her homework. She was chewing on her pen, examining sources about the Vietnam War, when Emily twisted around in her sleep, stirring. Spencer immediately became alert, and quietly stood, waiting for Emily to wake.

Yet Emily didn't. Emily snuggled into her pillow with one of the most beautifully peaceful expressions Spencer had ever seen. Her eyes were relaxed, her face muscles no longer taut, her bitten lips open ever so slightly to allow her to breathe. Spencer found herself now standing by her side, watching the curve of her chest rise and fall slowly as she exhaled and inhaled, wishing the peace she had found in her sleep could last forever.

She had wanted to watch forever, standing guard over her best friend, making sure nothing could ever hurt her as she peacefully slept. But she caught herself, and shook her head in horror, forcing her legs to stride back to her homework. _That's just goddamn creepy_, she told herself. _Emily's your friend, not a relic to guard. If she woke up and saw you gawking there, what the hell would she think?_

Certain phrases and choice words sprung to mind immediately, but Spencer bit them down and continued revising the Vietnam War, still sneaking glances at her sleeping friend every now and again. Just as Spencer was moving on to Agent Orange, Emily coughed. Spencer stood bolt upright and crossed to her side again. Emily tilted her head, and then said clearly:

"Twenty of those."

Spencer frowned curiously, and Emily went on. "No, I'm thinking two. A little boy, and a little girl."

Spencer immediate thoughts were that Emily was having an interesting dream about child slavery. She shrugged to herself, and went back to her work. Yet, not a minute later, Emily whispered:

"Mama."

Spencer dropped her pen, turning to stare at Emily again. Her sleeping friend had before looked peaceful, yet now, had a glorious, beautiful, yet heartbreaking smile on her tanned face. Her right cheek was crinkled into an adorable dimple, and Spencer expected to hear her bubbly, airy, carefree laugh any minute. She wanted Emily's eyes to open so she could see the twinkling happiness that was always so obvious in her eyes whenever she smiled.

And yet, a voice at the back of her head told her that if she dared to open Emily's eyes, the smile would disappear. The laugh would fade into thin air. The sparkling eyes would not be there, instead, there would be cold, hard, vacant shells. So Spencer sat on her hands to prevent herself from doing anything, and watched Emily quietly, trying to compress the hope that soared through her on golden wings.

And suddenly, Emily said again, in a breathy tone which sent shivers up Spencer's spine:

"I love you too."

Spencer froze totally now, eyes wide and far away, colour draining from her face. Her bottom lip wobbled only a little bit, before she bit hard down on it. Her face was flat, and glassy with the emotion caged behind it. "I do." She whispered, unaware of what she was even saying. "I love you too."

The mood of the room suddenly turned oppressive and raw, and Spencer flinched from her words as they escaped her lips. She clumsily stood to go, embarassed, forgetting her hands had gone dead from being sat on, and so tripped, knocking a stack of books to the floor with an unimaginably loud crash.

She reacted quickly, scooping them up in her arms and plopping them down again onto the dresser, but the damage was already done. Emily stirred, and this time, her eyes opened wide. Spencer raced to her side. "Hey." She said hoarsely.

Emily's eyes were still foggy with the remnants of sleep, and the smile was still present, as if she had not realized what she had woken up to. Before Spencer even knew what she was doing, she'd shot an arm out, and cupped Emily's cheek in her long, elegant fingers, futilely trying to keep the smile pressed onto Emily's face. "Did you have a good sleep?" She asked, trying to keep positive, while her heart was hammering in her chest like a tribal drum.

"Maya?" Emily asked dozily, her voice slurred.

Spencer's gut seemed to slam down to her knees, and her world rapidly unfocused and span out of control. She had no idea how to answer that question. "M-Maya's not here." She stammered, completely unsure of herself.

Emily squinted, and the smile slowly disappeared off her face, despite Spencer's efforts. "Spencer?" She questioned, in a much clearer voice.

"Hi." Spencer tried to smile, despite Emily's obvious disappointment.

"Oh." Emily said, in miserable tones, wrenching Spencer's heart out. "Oh."

"Emily, I-"

"She was just there!" Emily suddenly yelled, making Spencer jolt back. "She was there, and we were going to the club, and I gave her the necklace, and I told her, I told her-"

"You told her you loved her." Spencer finished, pressing her lips together, her face taut with imprisoned emotion.

"Yes." Emily agreed, quiet now. "I did. You know about it. So it must be r-real."

"No, Emily." Spencer managed. "You talk in your sleep."

Emily's eyes widened, and as clear as day, her mouth folded down and her eyes grew glossy and bloodshot. "My sleep." She said, her voice tremulous.

"I'm so sorry." Spencer replied, staring at her, as if iron will alone could force her not to cry.

And Emily then did something completely unexpected. She leant forward and wrapped her arms around Spencer's back and began crying, for the first time in days. Spencer, taken by surprise, flinched at first, then hugged her tighter. Emily's head came to rest on Spencer's shoulder, and it was this she sobbed into, as Spencer closed her eyes and held the brittle girl close to her, as tight as she could.

Spencer wanted to hug all the hurt out of her. Yet, she knew that was impossible, so she sat there, with a painfully pulsing heart, fiery eyes, and a gasping breath. She raised her hands to massage Emily's back, and Emily cried harder, as Spencer made comforting sounds. "I know, I know." She murmured. "I know. I'm so sorry. Sssh, ssh, I'm sorry, I know."

"I miss her so much." Emily howled. "I need her. I can't- can't-"

"I know, I know." Spencer empathized, suffering with her. "Ssh, sssh. I know. I'm so sorry, Emily."

She was repeating herself many minutes, which felt like hours, later, as Emily's sobs turned to choked sniffs. "I need her." She repeated, over and over again. "I need her to-to-keep-"

"I know, Em." Spencer sighed, rubbing her skinny back in a way she hoped reassured her. "I know. And I'm so, so sorry."

**This might be my last update in a while, I'm going off for holidays in New Zealand now! I've been frantically writing this just to keep you guys happy, so I promise I will fight my way to the computer to update as soon as I have internet. I added a subtle clue in here by the way to what I hope to do next with the story... you guys might get it! PLEASE REVIEW. They all made me smile so much. It means so much to me when someone compliments my writing or calls me a great author, I'm only fifteen but I really hope to be a writer when I'm older. Your comments honestly make my day so much brighter, knowing that people out there think I'm great at doing what I love. That was a bit out there, but, please review as ever. spinoza-off, I still feel like I'm writing to impress you, and you alone, ever since The Duplicate your comments have always made me smile hugely and I just love you okay! vazy, your suggestions are helpful and I thank you hugely, the other fics didn't make sense to me either. Dettie Cole, you have no idea how much your comment made me smile, thank you so much for that sweet paragraph, I read it so many times I swear I know it off by heart, you made my day. LoveLaughLiveXx, I'm sorry it made you cry, and that goes for everyone, I feel enormously guilty when that happens! Your suggestion was definitely taken into account in this chapter and thank you so much for that detailed and helpful review! Sora Yagami, haha I'm obsessed with the Hunger Games and had to add that bit in, your suggestions were so helpful. Hugs from New Zealand! MCDLove, ahhhhhgg thank you so much. That almost brought a tear to my eye. I'm so happy you like it! I JUST LOVE YOU ALL. ASDFGHJKL. I have to stop going on now, I've almost used up a page. To those who I haven't remarked to, I ALSO LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Gah! :D xx please keep reviewing! **


	5. Raven

"Spencer!" Toby called from the school gate. "Speeeennnceerrr!"

It had been another long day for Spencer Hastings. She'd spent most of the night lying awake in bed, trying to think what to do about Emily. Yet thinking about her was like hitting her head perpetually against a wall- painful, and good when you stop. Yet she couldn't. Normal, everyday life paled into comparision when it came to dealing with Emily's depression. She couldn't distract herself with quiet dreamings and happy imaginings any longer. Emily's face came looming across them, sooner or later, and Spencer cursed every time her eyes flickered open with frustration.

Her eyes now had dark smudged circles around them, and she was relying on coffee and energy drinks more than ever. Her body inevitably felt like a scrunched-up, wet, tired dishrag. Her head was wracked with constant pains and her eyes seemed always sore. She was in the process of examining said eyes in her hand mirror, scowling at the bloodshot stains, when Toby called her name.

She turned to see him striding towards her, with his usual big dimpled smile and twinkling eyes. She smiled back, with exhausted eyes, and leaned against her car, keys in hand. "Hey, Toby." She said hoarsely. "Thought you had..."

She trailed off. She had no idea what he might possibly have had, and she decided to cut the sentence short, not knowing what to say. Toby stopped, with a endearing look, and a hand extended towards her. "Might I offer the lady a ride?" He asked, with a sweeping gesture.

"Mmm, you might, but the lady's gotta take this car home. Perhaps you could offer the lady an invite to get some coffee, instead?"

"Very well, ma'am. Would you like to get some coffee with me?"

"Indeed." Spencer nodded, faking serious, then smiled at his imaginary doffing of his hat. She took his hand, and he gently led her towards the coffee bar on the corner.

"How are things in carpentry?" Spencer made conversation.

"Good, actually. I got a job as of late in the Branagh's house. They want me to build a new extension onto their porch, so that's keeping me busy."

Spencer nodded, with interest, and was about to add something in, when Toby stopped on the sidewalk, raising his arm and delicately twirling her, so she spun on the spot with a self-conscious giggle. "Now I would like to ask the lady, what's been keeping her so busy."

Spencer inclined her head, and waved her free hand wildly to gesture. "Oh, you know, this and that."

"Do tell."

"Well, there's lacrosse, tennis, field hockey, study, community service reflections, intern work, Hollis things-"

"Whoa, slow down, I didn't need your CV." Toby smiled lazily, walking down the road once again. "I guess you are a pretty busy girl."

"Yeah." She sighed, raising her eyebrows in bitter agreement. Guiltily, she added "Toby, I'm really sorry, I feel awful for not seeing you sooner, I've been so preoccupied."

"Apology accepted. I've been busy too. But now, we have some time together, and I want to share that the best way we can."

Spencer frowned down at the ground. "Actually, that isn't all I've been doing." She blurted, a strong desire to be honest with her boyfriend.

"Mm?"

"I've been... visiting Emily. Every day."

Toby's eyebrows furrowed in concern. "And how is she?"

"Not that good. I think she wants to improve, but she can't." Spencer sighed.

Toby nodded to himself. "Do you think I should visit her soon?"

"Definitely." Spencer said instantly. "She needs all the friends she can afford right now. Definitely."

"Okay. I have another day off on Thursday, so I'll go around. Just... tell me. Has she changed?"

Spencer gazed up at him, perturbed by his honest question, and he shrugged. "When I was a kid, one of my uncles became really depressed. I remember going into his room and I couldn't really understand. He was my favourite uncle, a cheerful guy, always joking around and things. And one day, he just became a shell of himself, and that scared the crap out of me."

She couldn't tear her eyes from his face, and he blinked, pressing away memories of his uncle in a bed, vacant and lost. "So, I wanted to know if Emily's changed. Because I'm going to need to know that if I go and visit her. Not to expect her usual self."

_Her usual self. _Somehow, that word cut deep within Spencer, and she wasn't sure why. "Uh... I suppose she has." She admitted, voice hoarse. "It's like all the happiness has been sucked out of her. She's a lot more temperamental and emotional."

"Okay." Toby remarked, sounding sad, then: "I will go and visit her soon."

There was a comfortable silence, broken by Spencer as she thought out loud. "You know, she really reminds me of you, at times." She said thoughtfully. "When everyone thought you killed Ali."

"How shut off and quiet and generally "I-hate-the-world" I was?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." Toby hummed, his fingers intricately winding around Spencer's. "Well, you _are_ good at helping those kind of people, aren't you?"

She gazed into his open face again, and he glowed back at her, a smile playing around his lips. "If you can do it with me," he said, in a low voice which made her shiver, "you can do it with anyone. Spencer Hastings, you're a fixer of broken things."

Spencer smiled widely, touched by his words yet too tired to dryly laugh like she usually did, and they shared a quick, yet sweet kiss. The couple strolled down the boulevard, in a world of small talk and easy joking. And it was obvious, as every outsider who passed them noted, that the two were in love.

**Emily POV**

I lost it, yesterday. I woke up again, and the disappointment was too much to take. In my dreams, she's so real I can touch her. I reach out and her curly hair's soft to the touch, her cheek's brushing against my curious fingers, her deep, dark eyes are gazing into my soul and figuring out everything there is to know about Emily Fields. She breathes crackling energy, and every fiber of every atom of her being is alive. And I indulge in that.

But when I wake up, she vanishes, and I'm left clutching at air and scraping the cold sweat off my palms. My gut heaves and before I know it, I'm crying again. I'd give anything to have a dreamless sleep. Just one where I wake up, and I know she's gone, rather than being fooled again and again by my rampaging imagination.

Yesterday, was different, however, because when I woke, Spencer was sitting close to me, staring at me with soft, doe eyes, the ones where I want to scream at because it's so obvious she's trying to make me feel better. I thought she was Maya at first, a fact I wince at now, because of the caring look. I _crave_, craved that look from Maya. When I got kicked off the swim team, she did everything she could have done to make me feel better. Particularly giving me that look. That look told me she cared, she loved me, she wanted me in every aspect. That look sent my head spinning and the fireworks exploding soundly behind me.

I recognized the look in Spencer, and so addressed her as Maya, and I could see her visibly start away and blush. Yet when I realized Maya was not there, not near me, nor even on this earth anymore, I began to cry again. And Spencer tried to help. She rubbed my back and made the ridiculous comforting noises people make when they're trapped in an awkward situation. And I couldn't help but cry more.

People talk about what I have like it's a disease, that needs to be contained. They wince away from it, back off, have no idea how to deal with it. In fact, a lot of famous people have had what I have. Winston Churchill and JK Rowling. Winston Churchill called it a big black dog, I read about that somewhere. JK Rowling created the "Dementors" in Harry Potter off her experiences with it.

I can agree with them, but for me, it's not a dog, nor a Dementor. It's a scrawny bird. A raven, to be precise. I woke up the day after I found out about Maya, and it was there, sitting on my dresser watching me. Every day after that, it hopped a little bit closer, wings twitching and yellow eyes blinking. Right now, it's hovering above me. I can feel its sickening breath, forcing me to curl away. The beats of its heavy wings press me down onto the bed. I close my eyes so I don't have to see it, but I can still feel it there.

When I wake up now, it's lying across my forehead, making it impossible to get up. I try to push it away, but it savagely bites at my hands until I leave it, and lie awake with empty eyes. Sometimes I shout, scream at it, until my throat rips and my voice fades. Sometimes I turn into the pillow and rhythmically thump my head against the bedposts, in an effort to move it away. If I bang my head hard enough, enough to make me wince in sharp pain, it squawks loudly and shifts to my chest. But only for a little while.

Today, it's backed off quite a bit, enough so I can move my hands to scribble this down. I glanced up just a moment ago, and it glared back at me. I swear it was smirking, malovelently. But I know this is the same as every other day it's backed off. It moves away a little, gives me freedom to breathe, and hope to spark inside me. Then when I wake up, it's lying on my forehead again, pinning me down into despair. It likes to play games with me.

But the thing was, yesterday, when I woke up, it was on my forehead yet again, and I expected Spencer to see it straight away. I immediately reasoned that was why she had the caring look in her eyes. Yet when I realized she couldn't, and Maya was gone, I cried, and I heard it squawk again, in anger. Its greasy wings fluttered, and it tumbled to my chest, so I stuck my arms out while I could and pulled myself towards Spencer. She held me tighter, tight enough to squash the mangy bird between us. Yet when she let go, I blinked, and the raven was back on my dresser on the opposite side of the room. I could breathe again. But only for a little while.

It's worse when it decides to roll onto my neck. The claws pinch my throat and I can barely speak. My words come out not how I intend them to. Rather than pleasant and agreeable, they are spiteful, hateful, like a spoilt brat. Worse is when they come out violent, and I find my limbs doing things I never want to do. At those times, I can feel the raven shaking with laughter, and I could scream in frustration, if I had the energy.

As every hour passes, it gets a little closer. I talk to it, occasionally. Mostly mumbled swear words and threats. It watches on with beady eyes, and what I could swear is a smirk. "Go." I whisper. "Leave me be. I don't want you."

The raven doesn't answer. It thrums its wings, and breathes down onto my face, and I close my eyes again in revulsion.

I need Spencer here. It's getting closer.

Just as Emily scribbled those words into her battered diary, and collapsed back onto her bed, plagued by her demons, Spencer was heading towards her house. She was climbing the porch steps, actually, by the time Emily closed her eyes. Her arms cradled a huge cardboard box, and this time, her smile was happy and genuine, rather than modelled and confident.

Mrs Fields opened the door again, immediately becoming suspicious when she saw what Spencer was holding. "Hello Spencer. What's in the box?"

Spencer felt like a magician, unveiling her latest trick, as she passed the heavy box into Mrs Fields' arms, and flipped the lid open. "Surprise." She said with a mischevious grin.

Mrs Fields peered inside, and her eyes just about popped. "Spencer, are these-"

"Yes. They are indeed."

Mrs Fields spent some time cooing over the contents of the box, before giving Spencer a heavy look. "Did you buy these for her? Because I have to tell you, the stress of looking after all of them-"

"No, no!" She interjected. "They're on hire, I guess. I thought they could really help with her therapy."

Mrs Fields nodded thoughtfully. "They just might. That's a good idea of yours."

She handed the box back to Spencer, who shrugged modestly. "I can't really take the credit, it was my boyfriend's idea."

"Oh, Toby?"

"Uh, yeah." Spencer replied, a little taken aback, and showing it.

Mrs Fields smiled at her alarmed face. "Your mom and I talk quite a bit, don't you forget. I know quite a bit about you, and your mom probably knows quite a bit about Emily."

"Uh." Spencer said again, unsure of what to say. "I forgot. Well. That's great, I'll take these up to Emily now."

"Off you go." Mrs Fields smiled weakly again.

Spencer hurried up the stairs, taking care not to tip the heavy box in her arms, with a faraway smile. She had been planning Emily's reaction to this ever since Toby had proposed the fantastic idea. She didn't even bother to knock on the door, such was her haste, and she barrelled into the room, making Emily jump.

"Sorry! Sorry!" She burbled. "Hello! Sorry for waking you, sorry I'm late, I saw Toby, but wait till you see what I've got for you today, it's brilliant. You will love it!"

She set the box down on the edge of Emily's bed. Emily stared at it blankly, and Spencer stepped back. "Okay. Just let me open it up, and prepare to gasp in amazement and affection. Ladies, and, uh, lady, I give you..."

She popped the box open, and carefully reached inside, hands cupping around her purchase, and gently pulling it to the surface. Emily watched, half-interested, half-wary of the raven that sat close to her in her mind. The aforementioned let out another angry squawk as Spencer unveiled a mewling kitten from the box.

"Hello! His name is Puddle. Isn't he adorable?"

Puddle was, in fact, adorable. He was one of the most adorable kittens Emily had ever seen. His paws were massively oversized for his body, his eyes bright blue, and his fluffy hair grey and shaggy. He stumbled forward as Spencer set him down on Emily's bed, and tripped over his tail, emitting another surprised mewl. Emily, under normal circumstances, would immediately have scooped him up into a hug and fussed over him. But these weren't exactly normal circumstances.

Spencer pulled out another kitten, a black-furred one, which she cradled in her own arms, tickling its tummy affectionately. "This one's his sister, Muddle. She's adorable too. They come from the animal rescue center, down the road from the cinema, you know?"

Emily did know, but didn't say anything. Puddle continued on his accident-prone way towards her folded arms, pausing at the form of her feet in the bed to curiously headbutt them. Spencer gently set Muddle down, who raced towards Emily immediately. "It was Toby's idea. I know how much you love cats."

"Did you buy them?"

"No, the animal center has a "rent-a-pet" thing. They let you keep one or more animals of your choosing for a week. Then you can choose to adopt them, if you like."

Emily stayed motionless, regarding Muddle who was busy crawling onto her lap with wide eyes. Spencer dropped the box and brought out her laptop, logging onto her school's website with a heavy sigh. "Muddle and Puddle are stupid names." Emily said suddenly. "They sound like something out of a nursery rhyme, for God's sake."

Spencer lifted her eyes from her laptop, and saw Muddle snuggling into Emily's folded arms. Emily, however, still wasn't moving, instead staring down the black kitten. "Well, what would you call them?"

"I don't know. Just not those stupid names."

"If you adopt them, you can call them what you want."

A short silence ensued. Spencer downloaded a PowerPoint, created a new folder, and was in the process of tapping her way through a language website when Emily spoke again. "Maya hated cats."

Spencer paused, her fingers hovering above the keyboard and looked up again. She knew she shouldn't ask. The therapists had told her not to mention Maya in any way. It wouldn't be helpful, and just hurt her more, they said. But human instinct compelled her to ask one question. "Why?"

"She said she never knew where you were with them. They wouldn't show you respect like dogs- they would make you feel grateful for their presence. They bite, they scratch, they claw. They never really look happy, and they never want to play with you."

This was the longest speech Emily had made in quite a few weeks, and Spencer felt motivated to act by that. "Well, I can take them back tomorrow, and ask for a puppy, if you like."

"No." Emily replied. "I like cats. Maya didn't."

Spencer had no idea how to reply to that. "I'm glad." She murmured, and headed back to the language website, where it was safe ground.

When she next looked up, Emily's eyes were closed, and her facial expression was still the same. But she had two, happy, sleeping cats snuggled up on her chest, picturesque. Spencer smiled, pulled out her phone, and took a picture.

Two minutes later, Toby Cavanagh received a text from his girlfriend, with an image attached. The message simply said **"Success." **

**PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING! I'm updating this from a cafe in Queenstown, possibly using up my internet allowance but who cares... for once, I've actually got a plan for this story (I never plan my stories. True fact), and I'm excited to write it. Love your reviews guys! They make my days! (By the way, Sora Yagami, I have read all three books, wasn't the movie amazing? I love Finnick as well! I've tried writing THG Fanfiction before but they never turn out right, sigh.) Anyways guys, I hope I haven't kept you waiting for too long! I tried to include as much as I can, and an update should be coming soon. Much love!- Elmo **


	6. Not What I Want

_Another day, another dollar, if I had a job _thought Spencer miserably as she entered the red-brick building which many called, with either terms of affection or disgust, Rosewood High. It was a day after her sort-of-not-really-date with Toby, and a night where she'd finally managed to grab a few winks of sleep. The means of doing so were known only to her, and the shelf above the larder, where her mother kept the first aid kit in case of any emergency. Spencer had gone rifling through it recently, and discovered, to her joy, that there was an entire bottle of sleeping pills tucked away behind the bandages in the kit. These pills were meant to be used if any member of the Hastings family was in so much physical discomfort they couldn't sleep. Spencer's discomfort, however, was purely mental, yet she took this discomfort as justification for using such pills.

But the pills did nothing to improve her now constantly cranky and irritable mood. Spencer wondered if you could get medication for such things. Happinessadol. Awakezac. Chillanol. Wouldn't it be easy to pop one little pill and be in an instantly good mood? Then again, such thoughts did lead to uses of things like marijuana and ectasy. Spencer was sensible. She knew to fantasize, but not go near, being a conservative dreamer.

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with a tightly bunched fist, yawned, and strolled down the corridor to her locker. She hitched her satchel onto her shoulder and began fiddling with the lock, when, to her surprise, it popped open instantly. Her foggy brain became crystal clear with curiousity. She peered closer at the lock, horrified to discover that it was a different lock entirely, one that had been left wide open. She glanced upwards at the locker number. That was correct, it was definitely her locker. _Why would someone swap my lock?_

Wary now, she took a step back, and scanned the area. Her instincts from a not-so-long-ago time when A ruled her life with an iron fist were kicking back in. She could see nothing out of place. No one was staring at her with giggling hushed anticipation of the prank she was about to unveil. No one was watching silently with a malovelent smirk. It was unusual, if it was a prank someone was playing, not to have a sentry looking out for what Spencer did. Or the sentry could just be an exceptionally good actor.

She faced off the locker with a thumping heart, flexing her hands, figuring out what to do next. She stepped away from it neatly on an impulse, and threw the door of it, flinging herself away into a brace position for whatever could be inside. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her stomach plunged in dread.

Yet nothing happened. Spencer waited, panting, with bated breath, and received only glances from her fellow students that could be described accurately in one word: WTF. After about ten seconds, she straightened up, shrugging off the gazes of horror and carefully stepping back towards the locker. The door hung open innocently. She peeped inside with wide eyes, totally unsure of what she was going to find.

Her books were still as she left them, scattered wildly inside the metal cell, and she relaxed, seeing no obvious signs of damage done. She was still too paranoid after the entire "A" saga. Perhaps she needed therapy herself.

But as she picked up her Macbeth book with due relief, a chunky envelope slipped out. It was sealed professionally, with a red wax seal, was her first thought. The second went along the lines of "why the HELL is this envelope in my locker?". The relief disappeared, evaporating in her mind, to be replaced with a drenching feeling of dread again. She picked it up, flipping it over.

It was addressed to:

**Spencer Hastings**

**Locker 278**

**West Wing**

**Rosewood High**

**Rosewood **

**Pennsylvania**

and written in plain computer font so to disguise handwriting. Spencer's heart began thumping once more. She tore the letter open, not before noticing the seal had one single letter imprinted into it- "A".

She pulled a crisp letter out, and as she tipped the envelope upside down, shiny photos fell to the floor. With a startled noise, she bent down and gingerly lifted them from the ground, still scanning the area to check for wanna-be prankers. She saw no one, and so, with screaming thoughts and goosepimpled arms, she read the letter.

**Did you really think I was gone, Spencer? Deary me. I wouldn't suspect you of being as naïve to follow with everyone else in that belief. After all, you're the detective.**

**Keep reading. I'd like you to do some things for me. If you tell anyone else about this, I'll hurt you in ways you can't imagine. No, moreover, I'll hurt Emily in ways you can't imagine. **

Spencer's blood ran cold, and red sparks began appearing in front of her eyes. She tried to inhale but her breath seemed choked in her throat. Her hands were shaking so badly she was clenching the letter, tearing it, just to hold it steady.

**I always knew you had it in you to join the A team. And if not, perhaps a bit of motivation is required. Welcome to my world, darling Spence. If you're in the A team, you have to prove your worth. Your test is to steal Emily's diary. Whether you read it or not is up to you. Take it, and deposit it in a clear plastic bag under the bench by the population sign just out of town at 6:00pm on Friday. Therefore, you have three days. Should be easy enough for you.**

**Toodle-pip, sweetie!**

**-A**

**P.S. If you don't believe that I have ways of hurting Emily, perhaps you'll respond to the little persuasions I've enclosed. **

Spencer slammed the letter down against Macbeth in disgust, fear sparking adrenalin which hurtled through her veins with a venegance. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing, which had rapidly turned shallow and shaky. Her eyes pricked hotly, and she scrubbed them with her hands, panic making everything spiral. On instinct, she gazed at the glossy photos, crumpled from the force of her fists, scattered in the locker. She stepped back in horror, and physically felt sick, about to throw up her meager breakfast of a smoothie and a coffee.

One photo was innocent enough, of a smiling Emily that made Spencer's heart ache, with her arm wrapped around Spencer who was grinning bashfully at the camera. She knew the photo. It had been taken when they were a lot younger. The girls had had a sleepover to celebrate their newfound freedom after exams. It had been taken as Emily and Spencer sat on Aria's bed, doing stupid poses as Aria grinned and took many shots from different angles, practicing her photography skills. Alison and Hanna had been busy fiddling with makeup, and were urging Spencer and Emily to join them. But the two had been happy enough mucking around in front of the camera, laughing, joking, and generally feeling free.

The next was not so. It was obviously photoshopped, as such things didn't exactly occur in real life. But the clarity of the image marked a professional at their game. It was an image of Spencer and Emily kissing. A had obviously taken two separate images, of the two kissing their seperate partners, and pasted them together. There, scrawled in handwriting which eerily mimicked Spencer's own, was written "Is this what you want?".

"NO!" Spencer snarled, tearing Macbeth out, making the photos flutter into the air.

She stuffed Macbeth into her satchel, picked up the photos and slammed her locker shut. Immediately, she strolled to the bathrooms across from the row of lockers, found an empty cubicle, and so, after ripping the offending picture into thousands of tiny pieces, flushed it down the toilet. Her eyes were closed, her chest was heaving, and she seemed like a women possessed. "No. No no no no no!" She shouted, again and again, repeatedly jabbing the flush button until she gave up, and collapsed against the cubicle, trying to regain her breath hopelessly.

It was twenty minutes later, and well past the time the bell had gone, when Spencer's face emerged from her hands and she had stopped murmuring "no" to herself. It was obvious she was still struggling to hold it together, but she was burning with a new resolve. She knew what she had to do. And she was terrified of what would happen if she didn't. With a heavy heart, she mailed a sick note to all of her teachers via her phone, one which she kept for emergencies, with Mrs Hastings' signature already forged onto it. Then she clambered out of the cubicle and walked home with her mind awhirl and her eyes glossy.

_It's not what I want. It's not what I want. It's not what I want. _

Cue the flashback, which occurred to Spencer as she paused by traffic lights, waiting for the man to turn green so she could get the hell out of there. She'd been trying to compress the memory down for so long, it was hazy and blurry, yet the intentions that bled through it were as strong as ever.

It had been the same sleepover that the first photo was taken in. After makeup and the photos and the general sugar-blasted idiocy which makes up most amazing sleepovers, the five girls all collapsed on various sofas around the room, too pumped on sugar to sleep, yet too tired to dance any longer. They'd had to keep quiet, due to Aria's parents sleeping next door, but they continued gossiping and joking until early in the morning.

"_So, girls." Ali said with a grin, "Truth or dare time. Hanna, your iPod please."_

_Hanna pressed play on the speaker, which gently played music in the background while the girls continued talking. "And of course," Ali said grandly, "I always go first. So, Spencer, who's this special someone I've been hearing so much about?"_

_Spencer was immune to Ali's mind games by now. She smirked up at the ceiling, as she lay on her back. "You know by now, Ali, that I have no special someone."_

"_Oh come now!" Hanna remarked flirtatiously. "Everyone has a special someone in their lives. You can't be a loveless miser forever, Spencie."_

_Spencer was reminded of Ian, and scowled to herself, but didn't allow any of the girls to see. She turned back with a cheeky expression. "Could say the same for you, Han. That's my question. Who's your special someone?"_

_Hanna blushed as Aria began warbling to herself. "Love is in the air..."_

"_Oh, I know all about Hanna's special someone." Ali suddenly grinned. "He's a charming fellow."_

"_You do?" Spencer hissed, intrigued. "Do tell."_

"_Mmm." Ali laughed. "He goes by the name of , and though he talks shit, he's very good at helping her with her certain... problems."_

_Hanna's face had gone deathly pale now, and her eyes were wide. "Shut up, Alison." She tried to giggle, in a failed attempt to divert attention. _

_The giggles came out flat and hoarse, and Alison delighted in it. "What's the matter, Han? Embarassed? Ugh, actually-" She said, as if on a different note altogether, "-I'm full. Do you want the rest of this candy corn?"_

_She addressed this to Hanna, and Hanna alone. Spencer, Aria and Emily watched on, enthralled by the spectacle which was unfolding. There was the sense of something dangerous in the air. Hanna was hesitating, teetering. "Do you want it?" Ali repeated, in somewhat harsher tones. _

_They seemed to snap Hanna out of her reverie. "No, thanks." She said as casually as she could, though the deathly pale of her face and the panicked look were immistakeable. "Ali, your special someone?"_

_The mood of the room changed instantly once again. Ali brushed the suggestion off with a light-hearted chuckle, which bubbled into the air. "Oh, you know me girls. I haven't met any boy particularly worthy of my... attention, in that way." She drawled. _

_Aria and Hanna laughed, Hanna glad to push the focus off her. Spencer laughed dryly too, flipping herself onto her stomach, gazing at her four friends. She noticed Emily, the only one not laughing. Even in the dim light, the hope which shone out of her face was impossible to mistake. Spencer's laughter dried up. Her eyes flickered from Ali, to Emily, and back. She was utterly confused. _

"_My turn again." Ali purred. "Emily, we all know about you and Ben. You two got down and did the dirty, mmm?"_

_Emily laughed now, embarassed again, as Hanna emitted a loud wolf whistle and Aria giggled. Spencer didn't. Spencer was trying very hard to figure out what was going on. "So," Ali went on, "how was the first time?"_

"_Oh... you know. Pish." Emily blurted, waving her hand, which made the four girls laugh even louder. _

"_No, we don't know exactly, seeing as all of us are virgins." Aria grinned. _

"_Well, fine. It was good. It wasn't what I was expecting, but I had no idea of what I was expecting, so, just, yeah." She finished, crimson staining her cheeks. _

"_Mmm. Lost your virginity at fifteen." Ali murmured, and despite the humoured tone of her voice, the room temperature seemed to plummet to Spencer's recollection. "One could say that's a little bit easy, Emily."_

"_One could say that, but one's not going to, because it's not easy. It's her choice." Spencer interjected quickly, trying to make herself seem casual like she'd seen Hanna attempt. _

_She received a grateful glance from Emily, which put a smile onto her face, and an intrigued one from Ali, which made the smile fade. "Hmm." Ali hummed, tapping her fingers against the mattress slowly, with the sadistic air of one unveiling a death sentence. "Well, Emily, apart from Ben, is there anyone else you'd like to share with us?"_

"_Uuuh, no?" Emily said weakly, guiltily, trying to brush off the question with a smirk. "Now it's my turn. Aria-"_

"_Just a minute." Ali commanded the attention by holding up her hand. "Are you sure?"_

_Emily shot her a disbelieving glance. "Of course I'm sure, there's no one else I like." She stated, but her voice lacked conviction. _

"_No one?" Ali let the question float in the air, innocent as it was. "No one at all?"_

"_Yes. Ben's the only one..."_

_Ali's eyes narrowed, and her tone turned to a whispered hiss. "No one, who, say, you'd like to taste their cherry chapstick?"_

_Fear turned Emily's face flat and wide, but she attempted to mask it hurriedly. She was clearly panicked and trying not to show it. Spencer had had enough. It was like Ali wielded some iron rod of a secret, and using it to beat Emily down into the ground. She couldn't watch that without the stirrings of anger rumbling into life in her gut. Her fists clenched."Ali, leave her alone." She tried to say jovially, but the undertone of a growl was all too present in her voice. "Aria, it is your turn. Who's your special someone?"_

_Aria was about to say something when Ali cleared her throat abruptly. Spencer's eyes flickered to her. She looked like a spoilt child, one which has just had its favourite toy snatched off them. "Spencer, may I have a little chat to you outside?"_

"_Sure." Spencer replied immediately, arms folded across her chest. _

_She stood, and picked her way through empty candle bowls to get towards Alison. Aria watched on, with the whispered warning- "Don't be too loud, guys, my parents are sleeping."_

"_Oh, don't worry your little pink-streaked head, Aria." Ali dismissed, and Spencer saw her practically flinch. _

_On that note, the blonde and the brunette wandered outside, Ali with a knowing smirk and Spencer with a purely defensive stance. "So." Ali said softly. "Sticking up for dear Emmy, huh?"_

"_You were being nasty. I don't know what about, but she looked really afraid and scared. You should know not to meddle with those emotions, Ali."_

"_Not to meddle?" Ali laughed loudly, despite Aria's warning. "Meddling with those is what gives me power, Spencer. You'll learn some day. Now, back to the subject. Sticking up for Emmy, and Emmy alone, is what I find happening here."_

_Spencer's eyes narrowed, not sure what she was getting at. Ali ventured a step closer, poised and confident, one hand on her hip. "I was, as you call it, "meddling" with Hanna earlier, and you did nothing about it. Yet the first little jibes I start making at Emmy, you panic and act all aggressive. I wonder why that is?" _

"_I don't know what you're talking about."_

"_Oh, but you do." Ali purred again. "You do indeed. You don't want to admit it, but I know you do. Little Spencer has green eyes."_

"_No, last time I checked, they're brown." Spencer retorted dryly. _

"_You know what I mean!" Ali hissed, now angered. Her mood changed, however, as easily as flipping a switch. Her tone returned to humoured and pleasurable. "You're jealous, Spence, and hooking up with your sister's boyfriends isn't really going to change that fact now, is it?"_

"_Jealous of what, exactly?" Spencer fired back, appearing cool and confident, despite how sweat now beaded her forehead. _

"_Jealous of how I've got little Emmy wound around my fingers." Ali smirked. "And unless you cover that up soon, you're going to find yourself in a mighty painful place. Jealousy is one of the Seven Sins, you know. Not like Perfect Spencer to display such things. I'd hate to have to make Emmy break your heart."_

_Spencer's eyes turned savage and raw. "Listen, Ali." She snarled. "I-don't-like-Emily!"_

"I don't!" Spencer yelled out loud, shocking herself out of her reverie, and scaring the girl next to her, still waiting for the lights to change.

She stared at her hands, which were shaking with the intensity of the confused bundle of emotions that coursed through her. "I don't like Emily." She whispered. "I don't. No, no, no. It's not what I want."

The girl was giving her odd looks, but she ignored her, plunging her shaking hands deep into her pockets and trying to deeply breathe. "Alright?" The girl asked in a lilted accent.

"Fine." Spencer blurted, staring desperately at the lights, willing them to change.

Thank God they did, preventing further questions from the curious girl. Spencer's eyes began to burn as she jogged across the crossing without turning back to look. She'd reached her house by the time she felt the need to stop, doubling in half, gasping for breath. "I don't, I, no, I don't want, no..."

She was babbling, and she knew it, but she could barely control herself. No one was listening apart from her, yet she felt a desperate need to communicate such facts to herself. "I don't. I don't, I don't. No no no no no..."

Even as she regained her breath, and unlocked her front door and threw herself inside, she was still muttering. "No, no, no, no."

"I don't." She finished, finally, exhausted by the effort, collapsing onto a sofa. "I don't."

Then for no apparent reason, she burst into tears.

**A lot of you guys were asking whether this would be Spemily or not, and I wrote this chapter all in 30 minutes to try and explain! What do you think Spencer's going to do? Steal the diary or fight her way out of it? Apologies if you don't like it... Please review guys! I'll be doing a massive Emily POV in next chapter to show emotions... PLEASE REVIEW!~**


	7. Bite Marks Or Beak Marks?

**Emily POV**

The raven's begun another dreadful act, lately, with such gusto it frightens me. This morning, when I woke up, it was on my chest again. But I'd had such a peaceful sleep, only to be disturbed by a crushing weight. I was angry. I forced my limbs into action, lashing out at the shadowy figure, complete with furious snarls and unladylike grunts. But my hands simply passed through it aimlessly, becoming cold as ice and shaking violently. The raven still lay, watching me with yellow-rimmed eyes of deep pleasure. I very nearly screamed.

Then I began trying to heave myself up, fighting it, propping my body up with my elbows as far as I could. It squawked in anger, and a grim smile set across my face. I don't know how long I tried to sit up, minute step by minute step, but in the end, the raven swiveled around and bit deep into my wrist.

I did scream that time, in pain, and for a brief while, the raven disappeared in my new, sharpened by adrenalin world. I muffled myself, aware of my mom downstairs, and took several deep breaths, cradling the pain, before terrifiedly glancing at my wrist. There was just not one bite. A multitude of scratches, some bloody, some white and faded, some scabbed over, patterned my left wrist. I gasped. Everything swirled violently around, shock tainting my sense of reason and judgement. I felt like I was going to puke. And then, thankfully, merciful blackness fell before my eyes and I passed out.

When I woke up, Spencer was there, and the raven was on my toes, grinning maliciously. I blinked at Spencer, frustrated that due to her presence, I wouldn't be able to examine the mysterious, sinister scratches all over my wrist. She looked up, and nodded to me. "Hey, Em. Anything I can get you?"

I gave her a long look, wondering of all the things she could possibly have gotten me, and then leaned forward. "Food without pills in it." I said wearily.

She gazed back at me, with deep eyes that reflected my own misery, and got up wordlessly. Five minutes later she was back, with a plate of Pop-Tarts. She laid them onto my lap, and strode back to her studies. "And how do I know these don't have pills in it?" I challenged.

"I just made them." She said matter-of-factly, not taking her eyes off her work. "You might have to trust me."

There was sarcasm riddling the latter sentence, and I scowled, facing off the Pop-Tarts before me. Before I knew it, spit was gushing into my mouth, and my stomach was growling. "Can I?" I asked. "And don't give me an answer like _of course you can_ like all the therapists do. I'm not stupid. I can't trust them because they're the ones trying to force those damn pills down my throat in the first place."

Spencer looked up this time, and instead of blathering ahead like she usually did, bombarding me with endless reasons as to why I should trust her, she stood up, grabbed a Pop-Tart, and took a bite out of it. I watched on as she did the same with all six she had given me. "Safe to eat." She mumbled through the food.

I inhaled deeply in satisfaction, and proceeded to wolf the pastries down. It took all of two minutes. Spencer had the grace to look surprised. "Want some more?"

I nodded. She trailed back to the kitchen, and this time brought back a bowl of fresh fruit topped with yoghurt. To prove another point, she chucked a slice of banana into her mouth, swallowed it with a mock-jovial expression, and handed the bowl to me, with a fork. With a heavy heart, I dug in. "You didn't answer my question." I said blatantly, when I was done.

"What question?"

"Can I trust you?"

Her lips sealed over, and she swallowed carefully, poised as ever. "I gave you that food, didn't I?"

"I'd like an answer." I retorted.

Her fingertips began drumming against the surface of her satchel, imperceptibly. She took one deep breath. "Yes." She whispered. "You can trust me."

"Good."

It was only a simple question, but Spencer looked like she'd just been shot. She cleared her throat and stared down at the laptop again. I continued spooning yoghurt out of the bowl absentmindedly with my fingers. The raven was still watching me. And I could tell Spencer couldn't see it, as her hand was right next to it without any problem. I sighed.

Spencer abruptly closed her laptop, and came to sit on my bed for no apparent reason, gnawing on her lip. I watched her, half-interested, and carefully pushed my left arm down further into the sheets . She didn't need to see the scratches.

"Emily." Spencer whispered again. "Do you ever think A's still out there?"

That was a loaded question if I ever heard one. "No." I said firmly. "Mona's in the ward now."

"That's not what I meant. What if A wasn't just Mona? What if there was more than one person behind it?"

"Well, no ones come after you, I, Hanna or Aria. Right?"

"Mmm." She murmured. "But what if there was... and they wanted to hurt us?"

I laughed. I laughed right then, but it didn't come out how I wanted it to. It was dry and crackly and filled with bitterness and anger. "Oh, they want to hurt us, do they?"

"I didn't say that-"

"You did. Well, Spencer, they could hurt you and Toby all they wanted, but the thing is, they can't even lay a finger on me." I drawled. "Want to know why?"

Spencer hung her head and squeezed her eyes shut. "I know, Emily, I know."

"They can't hurt me, because I have nothing else to lose."

The words floated out into the open, turning the air cold and dark once again. Goosepimples rose on my arm, and I swore I could feel a chill breeze in the room, even though all the windows were shut. The raven squawked again, and fluttered up into the air, jumping onto my bedpost above my head. I felt nauseous instantly.

But it was the truth, and both I and Spencer knew it, even though her face was the picture of despair. She scrunched her hands up, pulling away from me. "I'm so sorry." She said thickly. "I just have one more question."

"Go for it."

"What if... you lost me?"

"I'd miss the food." I said blandly, and continued licking the yoghurt bowl.

It wasn't a joke, yet Spencer's mouth curled up at the side and she shook her head fondly. "Seriously."

"I don't like to think about losing people much." I replied, and to end the conversation, I turned onto my stomach and closed my eyes.

Spencer accepted that and went back to her work. But five minutes later, she was back again. "Emily." She said softly. "Are you awake?"

I pretended to be asleep. I breathed in and out peacefully, and closed my eyes, and tried to even my lips out of my usual scowl. Somehow, it worked. Spencer made a quiet noise of annoyance, and as my eyes were closed, I couldn't see what happened next. All I heard was the soft crinkle of expensive paper, and the slight hiss of a shiny surface against said paper. I rolled over and opened my eyes quickly, though it used all my energy.

Spencer froze, guilt obvious on her face, gripping a piece of paper in her hands. She tried to crumple it, but I raised a hand and snatched it away. "What's this?"

She tried to yank it back desperately, and I grabbed it with both hands this time, seizing it back. She let go. A minor victory won. However, she pointed to my wrist. "What's that?"

Now it was my turn to freeze with guilt, and glance down at my bloody arm. "Emily!" Spencer whispered sharply, shuffling closer on the bed.

She grabbed my hand and drew it out slightly, and I winced at the feeling of the covers against my arm. "Em, Em, Em, no." She moaned. "No. No, you can't be doing this, Emily, please."

I stared at her vacantly, feeling hollow yet again inside, despite the hastily gulped food. "What's this from?" Spencer asked, letting my wrist flop back down onto the covers.

I knew I couldn't answer it was the raven. I simply stared back. "Emily." She said again, and leant forward to touch my face.

"Don't touch me!" I snarled, and slapped her away.

She leapt back, cradling her face, with an utterly wounded look, and I threw myself back into bed, not willing to talk to her. She'd pushed the boundaries. She'd gone too far. And she knew it.

I grabbed the letter again and brought it to my face, speed-reading it. She was too shocked to even attempt to snatch it away from me again.

**Did you really think I was gone, Spencer? Deary me. I wouldn't suspect you of being as naïve to follow with everyone else in that belief. After all, you're the detective.**

**Keep reading. I'd like you to do some things for me. If you tell anyone else about this, I'll hurt you in ways you can't imagine. No, moreover, I'll hurt Emily in ways you can't imagine.**

**I always knew you had it in you to join the A team. And if not, perhaps a bit of motivation is required. Welcome to my world, darling Spence. If you're in the A team, you have to prove your worth. Your test is to steal Emily's diary. Whether you read it or not is up to you. Take it, and deposit it in a clear plastic bag under the bench by the population sign just out of town at 6:00pm on Friday. Therefore, you have three days. Should be easy enough for you.**

**Toodle-pip, sweetie!**

**-A**

**P.S. If you don't believe that I have ways of hurting Emily, perhaps you'll respond to the little persuasions I've enclosed. **

"So A's back." I said emotionlessly. "I knew it."

Spencer had her hands pressed to her rapidly reddening cheek, and her eyes were watery. "You were not supposed to find out."

"What, or they'll hurt me in ways you can't imagine? Did you not hear our earlier conversation? They can't hurt me anymore."

"Yes, but they will hurt me."

"How?"

"By hurting you physically." She muttered, avoiding my eye.

I tutted in disgust, and threw the paper away. "You were going to do it."

"No, I wasn't!"

I glared at her and she shook her head vehemently. "Emily, you know me. I'm Jane Bond, remember? I was thinking of a way to fight my way out of it."

The plea made sense. Spencer is never one to bend to anyone else's will. She fights you ever single step of the way for anything that will cause her trouble. Tooth and nail. But I wasn't going to allow her to admit she was right. "Then what do we do?" I asked hoarsely.

For once, she had no idea.

**I'm sorry this has been so long coming... there's been no internet where I've been staying! :/ I hope you enjoy, suggestions are always always welcome. Please review, reading them honestly makes my day so much better. I might even have a chapter up tomorrow if I get more than ten ;) sorry it's taken so long! Hope you all had a brilliant Easter and are enjoying your vacations as much as you can. :D**


	8. Alex's Story

**Spencer POV**

I'd left Emily soon after, making her promise to lock the door, pull the curtains down, close the windows, all of the usual things we used to do when A was on the prowl. I'd been fretting, pacing up and down, thinking of things to do, words to say to protect her, while she watched with a sullen emptiness which told me she didn't really care what happened. Here was I, scared out of my wits for her, the one who could have convinced me she wished to die. The scratches said that, anyway.

_Oh, the scratches, oh, my god..._

I'd panicked when I saw them, inhaled deep, red-tinged scenarios of a collapsed figure in a bathroom flashing behind my eyelids. I couldn't look straight at them, yet now, I couldn't get the picture out of my head. Just remembering was a knife plunged deep into the gut. A fist bunched into life in my throat and scratched deep. My hands shook and became clammy instantly. It was agony.

Nothing compared to what she must have been going through, though, to do that to herself. Just thinking of her mental state terrified me. I didn't know what to do to help, thus I'd tried to remove all sharp things from around her bed. Until I realized.

As she'd fallen asleep again, her hands just outside the covers, I'd carefully peered closer at her nails. And, just as I thought, there were clumps of dried blood underneath them. No wonder her eyes had been so devoid of memory when I'd showed her what she had done. She had most likely been scratching herself in her sleep.

Nothing on the internet help really covers "how-to-help-a-friend-who's-scratching-herself- REALLY- FRICKING- DEEPLY-in-her-sleep". I also didn't want to tell the therapists, or her mom. Their solutions would both be deluges of pills. And there was nothing Emily wanted less. So it was up to me, Spencer Hastings, again.

But that was okay. I didn't mind that._ If Emily needs me, I want to be there. _

_And she does right now, much as she doesn't want to admit it. _

That thought rocked through my mind as I strolled back home, far away, my brain in somewhere place else entirely. I suppose that's why I didn't see the tall guy with curly brown hair and deep, familiar eyes in my path until the last minute. "Spencer!" He shouted.

I spun around quickly, immediately thinking the noise had come from behind me, and he caught my shoulders softly. "Ah!" I yelled, and jumped away.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa calm down." He said quickly, pulling his hands away.

I turned around again, and recognized his face immediately. "Alex?"

"Sure is."

"Hi!" I gasped, shocked. "Hey! How's it... going?"

"Pretty good, actually, how about you?"

"Uh, yeah, fine!" I said quickly.

There was an awkward silence, where Alex looked first at the car across the street, made a "wait" gesture with his hand, and turned back to me. "Spencer. I am so so sorry. I heard about the A thing, and I realized..."

I blinked at him. "Realized what?"

"That it must have been A who sent the letter. Not you. And I-" He stared at the ground, and let out an almighty sigh, "-I tried to get back into contact with you, but your Facebook said you were in a relationship with Toby Cavanagh, and I realized I'd missed my chance."

"Alex." I whispered, and moved forward, putting a hand onto his arm. "I'm sorry, but I am with him now."

"It's okay." He said brusquely, pushing the comment aside. "I just wanted to say sorry for jumping to conclusions."

"No, you didn't!" I protested. "It was fair enough."

"No, I should have talked to you first. I'm sorry for blowing you off and everything, and I guess your friend gave me what I deserved, ha ha." He chuckled.

I laughed absentmindedly, then blinked in confusion. "Wait... what did my friend give you?"

"You know, Emily? Ha, ha ha ha." He laughed again, flashing an entire set of pearly whites.

I shot him a deeply questioning look. "See! I can laugh about it now." He commented.

"Laugh about... what exactly?"

He paused, and looked down at me. "Wait, she didn't tell you?"

"No?"

"Oh."

"What did she do?"

"Uhrm, well..."

_It was the night he'd discovered his application had been sent, and Alex was furious. He'd marched away from Spencer with blazing eyes and clenched fists, forcing his way out from the crowd at Hanna's place, so angry he was practically steaming. He elbowed, jostled, shoved, so powerfully people yelled in complaint. Of course, the last person he had to push out of his way was Emily. _

_She whipped around in irritation, catching his elbow accidentally, and he was pulled towards her. "Hey, don't-" Emily broke off, recognizing his face. "Alex?"_

_He swore at her and dragged his arm away, storming off. Unlike others, her eyebrows furrowed, and she followed him. "What's wrong?"_

"_Get off!"He snapped. _

_Emily only knew him as Spencer's boyfriend. She'd barely even had a conversation with the guy before. In fact, Alex only knew her as the pretty girl Spencer always hung out with. But something made Emily corner him against Hanna's gate, an impulse to make him talk. She needed to know what had him so angry. "What's going on?"_

_He glared fiercely back at her. "You're Spencer's friend."_

"_I am."_

_He was angry, and his judgement was clouded because of that. The red cloud had seethed in front of his vision preventing him from thinking what he would say next would be a good idea. "She's an uptight snobby stupid bitch!" He ranted. "She thinks she knows what's best for everyone else, but thing is, she doesn't. She's a hateful posh cow just like her mother!"_

_He leaned against the gate, shaking with anger, glowering at Emily. Her eyes had gone dark, and her lips were pressed together. "Say that again." She said quietly, leaning close to him. _

_He tutted in scorn. "She's a hateful, snobby, controlling, stuck-up bitch!"_

_Emily's eyes hadn't left his face. He glowered, despite his slight uneasiness now. "What?" He asked mockingly. "What are you going to do?"_

_He stood up and brushed his jeans off. "You can't do anything." He told her. "You can't do anything because I'm out of this damn town, and away from that freak, and you can tell her all of what I've just said, cause I don't care. She knows she is. And she should know, because-"_

_Years of swim training had made Emily's arm muscles strong, but she'd never punched anyone in her life. Ever. So perhaps it was a complete fluke, or innate skill, when she stood, with an icy expression, swung her arm back, and punched Alex so hard in the face he collapsed over the gate with a yell. _

_Five seconds later, she'd snapped back to reality, and stared at Alex in horror as he lay crumpled, cradling his nose and groaning. She grabbed her fist, bewilderedly gazing at it, even more shocked to discover the blood spattered along her knuckles. Alex made an attempt to get up off the ground, and rolled over. "Argh!" He cried. _

"_Oh my god!" She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, crouching by his side. "Alex, I'm so so sorry!"_

_He swore at her again, louder than ever, an entire string of violent words that flamed into life. She ignored the outburst, and leant in closer to him. "I'm so sorry, I've never hit anyone in my life, I don't know... I don't know what came over me..."_

_She trailed off because she knew exactly what had come over her. And with shocking clarity, she knew she'd do it happily again. She wiped her knuckles against the bush, and stood up. "I'm sorry." She repeated. "But don't insult Spencer like that again. Cause I'd repeat it anytime."_

_Alex propped himself up, revealing the blood spurting from his nose, and Emily winced, but shook her head. "I'm sorry." She said finally, and walked away, without a second glance. _

"Emily did that?" I asked incredulously, my mouth hanging childishly open.

"I can't believe she didn't tell you, but, well, yeah." Alex confirmed, rubbing his nose with a slightly sour expression. "She nearly broke it, in fact."

"Wow. That's so... unlike her."

"Eh." Alex said off-handly. "I deserved it. I was angry, I don't know what I was thinking."

"Yeah but it's... Emily!"

Alex simply blinked at me. I shook myself and looked away. "Uh, it's very unusual."

Emily was never the type to hurt anyone in a spurt of anger. She was rational, sweet, kind, nice. I didn't think she'd ever raised her arms with the purpose of hurting anyone. She was more the type that would warn you, with a glare and sassy language in the worst-case scenario, that you were being a jerk.

_But I didn't think she was the type to get depressed, either, when I found what had happened. And I still didn't think she was the type to self-harm, until I saw it just now. _

_How much have I really understimated her?_

Alex was waving his olive hand in front of my face by the time I snapped out of my reverie. He grinned sheepishly once he had my full attention. "Uh, I have to go, but I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah!" I agreed, with a little too much energy, enough to boggle his eyes. "Um, yeah. We should have a proper catchup and everything."

"Definitely. See ya!"

"See ya." I smiled warmly, watching until he entered the car, then turning briskly and walking toward my house.

_There's a side to Emily that I've never seen, cliche as it is. One that punches my ex-boyfriends, one that threatens people, one that does what she... did to herself. But there is evil in the best of people, just as there is good in the most evil of people._

_Perhaps there's just more... bad in Emily than I ever realized. _

Spencer arrived at Emily's house the next day, full of hope. A hadn't texted her all through the night, and she thought she might have gotten away with Emily finding out about the diary thing. She was preparing to charge upstairs, a large packet of sushi tucked into her satchel, when Mrs. Fields appeared from the kitchen. "Hi." Spencer smiled sweetly, and swung herself onto the front step.

"Uh, Spencer, actually, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure." Spencer agreed, slightly surprised, and bounced off the step. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no no." Mrs. Fields shook her head quickly. "Uh, I'd just like to inform you about something."

"Okay..."

Mrs Fields pursed her lips, and leaned in conspiratorally towards Spencer. Spencer, in fact, was lucky Mrs Fields didn't really notice her lean an inch back and slowly inhale, disguising a smidge of panic. "We both know Emily's depression is getting worse."

Spencer winced, and found herself trying to wriggle around that sentence, but the more she thought about it, the truer it seemed. She bit down on her lip and simply nodded with hollow eyes. Mrs Fields sent her a sympathetic glance of understanding. "I know, it's hard to admit that, but it's true."

Spencer just sighed, still saying nothing, and intertwined her fingers so tightly together it must have hurt. Mrs Fields continued. "So I think we're going to need to take her someplace where she can get far better treatment than here in Rosewood."

Spencer full out took a step back, and she met Mrs Fields' eyes, winded. "You mean that..."

"Yes, Spencer, I do mean that." Mrs Fields said tiredly.

She really didn't need to say it out loud. Spencer's gut was twisting enough already. And when she did say "A move to Texas seems ideal, considering how many specialists are there." it was like a death sentence.

"Oh." She said softly, staring down at her feet. "Oh." She murmured, again, with no idea what to say.

"I have Emily's best interests at heart." Mrs Fields replied, a little defensively for Spencer's taste.

"I know."

There was enough tension in the room that it seemed one slip of a word could set off the entire situation, cause explosions ricocheting through the seemingly homely hallway. Spencer was horrified at the thought of losing her best friend, and Mrs Fields simply didn't understand that. With a sigh, she retreated back to safe ground in her kitchen. "I'll let you talk to her about it now."

Spencer worldlessly traipsed back up the stairs, anxiously threading her hands through her hair, feeling violently sick. It was as if her world had been turned upside down, yet again. She opened Emily's door feeling weighed down with her troubles, and it was some relief to see that Emily was sleeping.

And then, needing human comfort, Spencer didn't open the blinds, or open her satchel, or begin tidying Emily's room. She flopped down next to Emily on the comfortable bed, and closed her eyes wearily. Before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep, a miracle considering she hadn't choked down any pills.

Five minutes later, Emily twisted around and opened her eyes, to discover with a very bemused expression that Spencer was collapsed next to her. She stared. She blinked. She thought of what to do. She quietly stuffed her diary under her mattress with hard eyes. And then she fell asleep yet again.

She didn't even stir when Spencer, in her sleep, reached out and laid a lazy arm across her scrawny back.

**Now wasn't that a nice scene... I'm sorry I haven't been updating as often, but I just wanted to say you guys are incredible. 80 reviews? I could barely believe it when I read it. I love you all :D please keep reviewing, I've said this 10+ times but they make me so happy. I hope you liked badass punchy Emily, and sad Spencer. Please tell me what you want next! :D**


	9. Shower Power

Spencer had woken up before Emily, around 7 pm, her eyes fluttering open, roused by the gentle thumps of Mrs Fields cooking from downstairs. She had sleepily assumed she was in her own bed, having a quiet snooze. It was much to her surprise when she discovered Emily, in a dangerously close proximity, next to her. It was even more of a surprise when her gaze flickered downwards and she realized Emily's fingers were intertwined with hers.

She sat up, slowly, carefully, not wanting to make any sound or disturb Emily, and gazed with a degree of satisfaction at the contrast between Emily's tanned fingers and her own skinny, pale long ones. She turned her head to check that the curtains were shut, and when she had confirmed they were, she bent across the bed to grab her phone out of her satchel. It announced she had one new message.

**Hey, do you want to meet up somewhere tonight?**

**-Toby xx**

Spencer carefully looked at the text, and inadvertently, her eyes flickered to Emily's form. She shrugged to herself, and dropped the phone back into her bag, prepared to fall asleep again. She hadn't enjoyed that kind of blissfully quiet sleep in a long time, and she wanted to enjoy every minute of it.

But Emily had woken up, and murmuring, she twisted onto her side with blinking eyes and a peaceful smile. Her eyes focused soon after, and she saw Spencer sitting beside her, with an expression that could have been described in one word- guilty. "Hi." Spencer said softly.

Emily didn't say anything, but her lips flattened out. Her eyes, like Spencer's, flickered down to the intertwined hands. She looked at Spencer again, and arched a critical eyebrow.

Spencer blushed, and attempted to pull her hand away, as Emily's gaze flitted around the room cautiously. The raven of her mind wasn't there. It had momentarily vanished. Emily's heart soared with hope. Endless possibilities rambled through her mind. _Maybe it's dead, maybe it's gone forever, maybe I killed it, maybe Spencer killed it, maybe... _

Spencer tugged her hand away, blushing furiously, as Emily snapped back to reality. "Um, I have a plan." She blathered in her usual way. "About A. And your diary."

"Yeah?"

"I'll make a fake diary." She replied, evidently pleased with herself. It had taken her a long while to figure out how to beat A.

Emily watched her for a long moment, dark eyes filled with thunder. "And how are you going to do that?" She asked sharply.

"I'm glad you asked me that question." Spencer said gleefully.

She pulled out a blank book from her satchel, and handed it to Emily. "See, you write whatever you want in there. Has to be fake though, all of it. We don't want A catching onto your real feelings, of course. And we have a diary to hand in."

Emily nodded grudgingly. "What should I write?"

"Anything. So long as it's fake."

"Right." Emily said finally, reaching to grab a pen from her bedside table.

Spencer watched her begin to scribble down words zealously. "I saw Alex." She said offhandly.

Emily said nothing. There was absolutely no reaction from her. She continued writing. Spencer cleared her throat. "He told me about the night he broke up with me."

Emily shot her a mildly disgusted glance. "No, not like that." Spencer tutted. "He said after he left me, you punched him in the face."

A malovelent smirk twisted Emily's face. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because he pissed me off." She said, continuing writing, mentally begging Spencer to ask no more questions.

Unlucky for her, Spencer was curious. "And why did he piss you off?"

"Do we really need to go into this?" She snapped.

"Yes."

Emily continued writing like she hadn't heard her answer. Spencer leaned close and touched her arm. She felt the dark-haired girl tense but stood her ground. "Emily, I need to know."

"Why?"

"Because I need to know."

"Not a proper answer, Spencie." She said mockingly.

_Because I need to know if you were sticking up for me, being an amazing friend. Because I need to hear it out loud these days. _Spencer chose her words carefully. "Because it seemed like a random act of violence, which is rather unlike you."

Her words had the chosen reaction. Emily's eyes flashed. "Random act of violence?"

"Mmm."

"It was not a random act of violence." She hissed.

Through her eyes, she saw the raven materialize, shockingly close, and she gasped at the sudden presence, feeling the familiar weight push her down into the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut, tried to breathe, attempted to make it back off. Her angry mood turned to one of fear. "Hey, are you okay?" Spencer asked.

"Fine." Emily said through gritted teeth. "It just wasn't a random act of violence."

"Then what was it?"

The raven cawed, threatening. She watched it nervously, sick to her stomach. "It was me punching him because I was angry at him, because he was insulting you." She found herself saying with surprise. "He was saying such nasty things, I lost my temper, I lashed out."

The raven fluttered away, and Emily breathed again with relief, sinking back onto her pillows. Spencer misinterpreted the act. "You were sticking up for me." She said with a little wonder in her voice.

Emily's eyes focused on her. "Yes."

Spencer's eyes dropped, and Emily scoffed. "What, did you think it was impossible for me to do that?"

"No." She said hurriedly. "I've just... I've just missed you doing it."

Emily rolled her eyes, but with less venom than Spencer expected. In fact, it was half-hearted. She continued scribbling in the diary with a venegance. "Your mom told me about the Texas idea."

"It's not an idea if it's going to happen."

Spencer sighed, and flopped onto the bed, still exhausted. "It'll be good though, right?" She said, trying to inject happiness into her voice. "New place, you get to meet new people."

"Yeah, like the mental doctors."

Spencer said nothing again. Emily kept writing. "I'll miss you." She said hopelessly.

Emily glowered, and brushed the sweet comment off. "This writing good enough?" She asked bluntly, turning the page towards Spencer.

_God, I hate Spencer so much right now. She can't leave things be. Nothing is ever good enough for her. She's stuck-up, perfectionist to the point of OCD. It's so boring for me to be around her. She sits and whines all the time about how much her life sucks. And then she wants to talk about feelings. I feel, like she never shuts up, and pisses me off. But I can't say that, can I? I want her to go away, to leave me alone, to butt off someplace, I don't care where. She needs to get a life, stop obsessing about Toby, stop freaking out about her grades, realize not everything is about her. But she won't. There's only one universe, and it's Spencer Hastings's. _

Spencer tore her eyes from the page, her mouth wide. "Good for A." She replied weakly.

Emily shrugged, and pulled the page back to her, pressing the pen onto the paper. "You don't, honestly-"

"I knew you were going to ask me that." Emily cut across icily.

Spencer said nothing. She eyeballed Emily, eager to pump the information out of her, but wary. Emily rolled her eyes again, this time with venom. "No." She said with a final note. "I'm giving A useless ammunition."

"Right." Spencer tried to smile, but her face was frozen. "Good idea."

The raven was on Emily's dresser again. She watched it agitatedly, feeling like a whining dog on a leash. She was almost glad when Spencer said, "I think you should take a shower."

She didn't reply, but Spencer was determined this time. "Come on. Between you and me, you stink a bit."

Emily's eyes met hers, wide and round, and Spencer was suddenly aware of how cruel the statement could seem to someone with critical depression. "Emily." She sighed, quickly. "No. I didn't mean that."

_It's shocking. On one side, Emily has this cruel, oppressive, unstoppable front. But one little cruel word from me, and that crumbles down into nothing, and she gives me that... heartbreaking look she's giving me now. Ugh! _

"I didn't." She repeated. "I'm sorry."

Emily swung her legs out of bed, avoiding Spencer's eye, and attempted to stand. But after weeks of being motionless in bed, her legs were scrawny and weak, and she stumbled almost as soon as she stood up. Spencer caught her immediately, gripping her thin shoulders carefully. "Okay?"

Emily nodded, and attempted to fight her way out of Spencer's hands, but as soon as Spencer let her go, she staggered again, like she was drunk. Spencer backed off, knowing Emily would snarl if she grabbed her again. Emily made her own way through the door, across the landing, into the bathroom.

She sat down on the toilet seat, panting quietly, while Spencer fetched her new pajamas she could wear once she was done. Much to her surprise, when she opened the door, Emily had already taken her top off. Spencer's eyes boggled, she went bright red, and took a step back. "Oh." She said, covering her eyes.

"Um, here's some pajamas to get changed into once you're done!" She blurted, hoisting them out to the unknown darkness.

Emily took them moodily. "You can leave now, Spence."

"Yeah, yeah, I was just... yep, yep, okay, I'm going." She babbled, mortified. "I'm closing the door, yeah, have a good time, okay, bye now, I'm going."

Normally, this would have been one of the funniest occurences to ever happen to Emily. But the raven was flying smoothly around the bathroom in a deadly circle. She blinked at the scars on her wrists with a worried expression, then she hobbled into the shower, and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

Spencer, meanwhile, was outside with a completely horrified expression, bright red cheeks, and scrubbing her eyes in complete embarassment. She busied herself with her homework, trying desperately to forget the glimpse.

Ten minutes later, and Emily was still leaning against the wall under the hot water, hot enough that her skin had turned bright red and steam was rising from her body. She'd soaped herself, but with the limited energy she had, gripping onto the soap was like lifting a dumbell. The raven was perched on top of the cubicle, staring keenly down at her.

Trembling, Emily lifted a hand into the air and gave it the middle finger. Determination filled her. She was going to fight this thing. One way or another. She wouldn't let it take her over.

The raven sensed that. It cocked its head, amused. Emily faced it off, shaking but strong. Her eyes were screwed up in a glare of hate.

And suddenly, the raven dived, beak snapping, right at her. She cried out, tried to dodge it, tried to move away from it, but suddenly it was upon her, and there was no fighting. She fell down onto the wet shower floor with an almighty thump, and screamed out in terror, black thoughts invading her mind. Her shoulders, back, head exploded with pain, and she saw stars.

Her eyes went wide and glassy, staring out at the bathroom beyond, and then they closed. Blood seeped from her head. Her last thought was: _If it doesn't kill me, I'll die this way. _

And then she passed out.

Spencer heard her scream, and dropped everything, running to her aid without a second thought. She swung the door open two seconds exactly after Emily had passed out. It wasn't a pretty sight. Emily was sprawled naked on the floor, with water from the shower mixing with the blood. Spencer paused. "Oh my god." She said quietly, quickly, a prayer.

She sprung into action, flipping the shower off, turning Emily onto her back, trying to ignore the fact she was naked. "Emily!" She shouted. "Emily! Can you hear me?"

All of her safety training sprung to mind. She immediately checked Emily's airways, made sure her tongue wasn't sliding down her throat, and then pressed her fingers to her neck. There was a pulse, strong and constant. She rolled Emily onto her back, made sure her head was aligned, and pressed a towel hard onto where she was bleeding from, the right side of her head.

Mrs Fields came running through the door as Spencer staunched the wound. "What happened?" She shrieked.

"I think she fell!" Spencer tried not to shout, trying to keep calm, while she was panicking inside. "Call an ambulance!" She added.

Mrs Fields ran to grab her phone, and Spencer watched in horror, as the towel she had applied rapidly became red.

_Please, God, Buddha, Allah, Baby Jesus, Mohammed, if you're up there, help me now!_

**Shout out to all my lovely reviewers! Firstly, spinoza-off that one review made me grin so much. You are taking so much out of this story, and I adore your long reviews, I always look forward to them! Update soon on your story, BTW. Everyone go read All The Promises and Speeding Up if you like Spemily! :) EpicMickeyFreak, I'm glad you logged in, I hope this chapter satisfied you! Cha, I have to say your review about Spencer and Emily in an alternate universe on a farm made me spit out my drink. I laughed so damn hard. You are hilarious! Prettylittlefan, I love badass Em too, she's fun to write, and thank you about the self-harm thing, I think if anything like that happened to any of the little liars it would actually kill Spencer. For some reason, I don't know why. BeccSon, hahaha I'm not promising any breakups... yet... ;) LOVE YOU ALL. :D x**


	10. Don't Let The Bird Bugs Bite

"She's dreaming." Mrs Fields said with a wistful note, staring at her daughter.

"And she looks so peaceful when she does." Spencer agreed, shrugging hopelessly.

"She'll be home, once she wakes up. They said it was only a minor concussion."

"Well, she'll be disorientated, to say the least, when she wakes up in here." This comment was loaded with a look of understanding between the woman and the teenager.

"I know what you mean." Mrs Fields said simply. "That's why she's in this ward, especially. Doctors are used to handling people like her."

"People with diseases like her." Spencer corrected.

She couldn't bear to hear anyone say depression was a part of Emily, anymore.

Mrs Fields sighed quietly, and beckoned Spencer closer. "You should go home. She'll be fine, for tonight."

"Okay." She said quietly, defeated, worn out and hungry.

She closed the door softly behind her, with a lingering look at the sleeping girl, and then stalked away on her heel.

**Emily POV**

**(A.N. This may seem weird, but it's based on an actual dream that I had once... not about Spencer and Emily, but me and someone else. You'll get the picture!)**

She was young, young again, running through a field where the dry stalks of grass brushed against her small stomach as she charged away, giggling. Her chubby arms pumped and her bare feet crushed the dirt underfoot. She didn't know what she was running from, but she ran.

She heard a cry behind her, a voice young and unbroken. She continued running but span around on dirty feet, facing the voice. "Come on!" She yelled, enthusiastically.

The voice's source appeared soon after, grumpily pushing their way through the tall stalks, shaking an exasperated head. "This isn't such a good idea, after all. It's so far away!" They huffed.

"Not much further." Emily replied, with a genuine note of concern. "Are you tired, already?"

The voice became indignant. "No, but-"

"Let's keep running!"

"Ugh!"

She sprinted away again, her energy as a child having no bounds, feeling like if she ran fast enough, she could soar up into the cornflower-blue sky, feet leaving the cracked ground, arms extended and flapping madly as she glided on up, up and away...

She threw out her arms and giggled crazily, running faster than ever, head tilted to the cloudless sky to praise the glowing sun. The voice loped behind, watching Emily at a distance and occasionally tripping with muffled angry childish phrases. Suddenly, it coughed, panting for breath. "We're here."

Emily spun around, like a ballerina, tottering a little, and faced the fence where the field met the open road. "Good!" She breezed. "And now, we get into the ditch."

The voice's face screwed up in disgust. "This is what you meant?"

"Yep!"

"But there's... there's mud down there, and gross stuff."

"No, it's all dry. Trust me. I've been down there before."

The voice hesitated, before sighing and gingerly jogging over to inspect it. "So, the plan is." It said, sombre and business-like, "We get down there, and when our mommys come past here, we jump up and give them a fright!"

"Yes." Emily affirmed, despite the fact she knew they'd been over this ten times already. "Come on, let's get down."

They crawled into the ditch, lying belly-first down, heads next to each other, giggling at the thought of their mommy's faces. "I'll take first watch." The voice said gruffly, like in all the war movies Emily had seen.

"Okay." She replied contentedly, and propped her head on her arms, closing her eyes.

A while passed, and Emily was only pretending to be asleep. The voice must have known that. Yet, it curiously clambered down from where it had been watching for the two mothers, and stood above her for a while. She could feel their eyes on her.

All at once, it crouched, she could tell from the popping of their bony knees. And hastily, carelessly, child-like, it plastered a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

Emily's eyes popped open, and she giggled breathlessly, staring up into the voice's face. "Ben!" She remonstrated.

The voice laughed back, and suddenly the scene was swept from beneath her, blurring and smudging, like a childish hand had reached out and snatched it away, smearing it. The face changed completely, from a rosy-cheeked innocent Greek boy's one, to a tangle-haired older coffee coloured girls' one. She cupped Emily's face carefully, fingers brushing softly against her cheeks.

Emily knew exactly who this voice was. She gazed back at it, a terrible sadness and longing filling her heart for no visible reason. "Are you sure you want to do this?" She asked, hesitant.

They were on top of a blue-sheeted bed now, in a dazzling turquoise room, and the older girl was leaning over her. She sighed amusedly, and chucked her hair back. "Like I said. Crystal clear."

"Is there a chance of anyone coming in?"

"Always the worrier." The voice tutted, but not without a playful tweak of Emily's nose. "No, there isn't. My parents are out at work. We could skip off school today, as well."

"Mmmph." Emily said, fraught with indecision over skipping, her good-girl nature shining through.

The voice raised her eyebrows, and gently leant down and whispered "I could convince you."

"Mmmph." Emily said again, but this time in a tone of pleasure, as the voice bit tenderly down on her earlobe. "Okay, okay!"

"I knew you'd see it my way, eventually." The voice laughed, and leant in for the kiss.

Emily shook her head affectionately, and kissed the voice back, lips seemingly moulded to fit each other exactly. They made out blissfully on the bed, Emily unaware of the scene around her blurring and smudging again.

The voice's lips left hers for only a second, and they were on them again, shy this time, hesitant and wary. Emily smiled into the kiss, her hands brushing against the voice's neck, back, shoulders, toned stomach. She bit down evilly on the voice's bottom lip, and the voice made a pleasured sound and kissed harder. The kiss became heated, faster and more needy until Emily eventually broke away to lay butterfly pecks up and down the voice's neck, and froze in shock.

The eyes which stared back, deep and wide and trembling, were long-lashed and hazel, and the skin was a smooth pale, rather than a deep brown. "What?" It asked hoarsely, huskily.

Emily was still frozen, heartbeat in her ears, completely at a loss as to what to do. The voice screwed up its eyebrows in concern. "Is something wrong?"

Her brain whirled, and she stared at the voice in a degree of absolute confusion, and then, for reasons she couldn't even understand herself, she leant in and kissed the voice again with undisguised passion.

And then she woke up.

Her head was a bloody ball of red streaks and screaming pain. She withstood it, pressing her lips together hard, trying to think, trying to pull the voice back. Sometimes, when she woke up after a particularly pleasant dream, she could fall asleep again and continue the dream. She screwed her eyes up, snuggled deeper into the bed, ignored the throbbing heat inside her head and tried to beckon the voice.

"Emily? Are you awake?"

Instinct compelled her to open her eyes, and reality slowly returned, as she looked into her mom's concerned face. She was in a blank white bed, inside a small white room, separated from whatever outside world through a green-tinged curtain. She blinked dozily at her mother. "Water." She coughed.

Her mom immediately bustled off and got her a cup. As Emily gripped it and carefully poured it into her mouth, her sanity seemed to return. "Oh my god." She gasped, choking, as she realized what her dream had actually been about.

Mrs Fields ran to take the water from her, but not before Emily thrust it down with a loud "HOLY SHIT!" that alerted just about every patient in the hospital, if not every person in Rosewood.

"Emily." Mrs Fields said in a scolding tone, then, slightly more worried: "What's the matter?"

"Everything." Emily groaned, and shuffled down further into the bed, shame colouring her cheeks.

She peered out from under the covers to be greeted by a familiar probing, sickeningly sharp black beak, and quietly snarled, glowering at her mother. "What happened? Why am I here?"

"You fell over in the shower, and you have a minor concussion."

_That would explain why my head hurts so much_. "I need more painkillers." She grunted, and her head ached in agreement.

"Well, you're coming home today. It's only a minor one, so they're discharging you immediately. We can get you some painkillers soon, however."

Her mom was about to embark on the said quest for painkillers, when Emily stopped her. "Where's Spencer?" She asked, in a murmur.

She was asking as a solution to the raven, which hovered above her with a sadist expression. By now, Emily knew Spencer was the only way the raven ever backed off. She wanted the girl to be around, just to have a little breathing space.

"You'll see her when you get home." Mrs Fields assured, and walked away.

"But I want to see her now..." Emily mumbled to her retreating figure hopelessly.

**Spencer POV**

"You're insecure. Don't know what for."

"You're turning heads, when you walk, through the do-oo-or."

"Don't need makeup, to cover up."

"Being the way that you are is eno-o-ough."

"Everyone else in the room can see it,"

"Everyone else but you-ooo."

"BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY-"

"SHUT UP!" I yelled, chucking the book I was currently reading in a direct shot at Hanna's face.

She flinched, screamed and threw herself to the side, as the book went sailing past through the air. Aria gave me a reproachful look. "Spencer..." She said in warning tones.

"She knows I hate that song, and she has her damn earphones in so she can't hear how badly she sings it!" I hissed back in reply.

Hanna bobbed up from under the table with a murderous look and her pencilcase in her hand. I ducked for cover as a bombardment of pencils, pens, erasers, rulers and Tippexes cascaded down on me. "Don't disturb my fangirling!" She ordered in steely tones.

"Fangirling, from the noun fangirl. Verb. To make exceedingly loud and exceptionally stupid high pitched noises, while running in circles and hyperventilating over a group of moppy-haired, obviously gay, cheesy boyba-"

My sentence was cut short as Hanna stood up with a warning finger. "One more word, Spencer, and I am kicking your ass into next week."

"Is that your new threat?" Aria asked curiously.

"Yes, do you like it?"

"Last week's was better."

"You mean: I'm going to kick your ass so hard you'll make Elephant Man look like a GQ model?"

"Yeah, that made me laugh."

"If she's going to kick my ass into next week." I interjected, "She'll just have an even crappier threat there to insult me with."

"Excuse me, who peed in your Cheerioes?" Hanna asked roughly.

"Mike did that to me, once, when we were kids..." Aria said thoughtfully, her eyes far away and her head propped up by her folded hands.

She came back to earth once she realized Hanna and I were both staring at her with similar expressions of absolute disgust. "Boys." She shrugged.

"No one did, Hanna, in answer to your earlier question. I'm just sick of the crappy threats."

"Oooh, you did it now, Spencer darling. You have to go to sleep sometime. And there are certains things I've learnt to do with bleach, superglue and shampoo."

"I'm wincing to think of all the valuable brain space that's filled up with this idiocy. You need it."

"Did she just call me dumb?" Hanna gasped in horror. "Aria! Tell her off!"

Aria rolled her eyes. "By now we know my cousin's Neopet is smarter than you."

"That's one helluva genius Neopet."

"Hanna."

"Hey, you guys know I'm smart! It takes brains to do makeup this good."

I was about to reply to that with an extremely sarcastic comment, when a flicker of movement caught my eye. A girl our age walked past our table with a bowed head and her hands shoved into her pockets. Her eyes were carefully aimed in the opposite direction, but the way she held herself made me want to reach out to her. She looked utterly miserable.

Her face was taut and compressed, trying to gulp down emotion. I watched her carefully, tenderly, and halfway stood to follow her. Hanna grabbed my hand. "Spence?"

I blinked down at her, and Aria scooted around, peering at me. "You okay?"

I nodded to the harrowed girl. "What's her story?"

Hanna was always good for having the gossip on someone. She took about two seconds to recognize the girl. "Oh, she's Taylor Lopez. She just moved here."

So that was the look I had recognized- utter loneliness. I stood up fully, swinging the satchel over my shoulder, and setting off after the girl determinedly. Hanna and Aria called after me, but I marched away, mentally begging them not to follow me. There was something I had to do.

I found Taylor heading into the girl's bathroom, oddly the place where I'd had my mini breakdown days earlier. I pushed open the door, and she started, looking like a frightened rabbit, then politely averting her gaze. I let the door swing shut. "Hi. Taylor, right?"

"Uh, yeah, hi." She said nervously, her lips trying to curl up but not quite managing it.

I stuck out my hand for her to shake, and she stared at it warily, like she was worried I would slap her. "Spencer Hastings." I introduced myself. "I heard you just moved here. Where from?"

She raised her hand and gently shook it, a weak grip. "Mexico."

"Must have been tough." I sighed sympathetically. "I bet you miss a lot of people right now."

She stared at me for a couple of seconds, and my heart went out to her. She was acting like it was the first time anyone had ever talked to her in days. "Yeah." She murmured. "I do."

"I can't speak from experience, but I know you might feel a little bit lonely and scared right now. You can come and sit with my friends Hanna and Aria and I anytime, for lunch and things."

She looked cautious again. I shrugged. "Or you could keep staring at me like I'm going to bite you, which I promise I don't do, but I think the lunch offer is the better option."

"Uh, yeah." She agreed, reddening slightly. "Sorry. I'd love to. It's just that..."

She trailed off, unsure of what to say, and I smiled comfortingly. "Some people at this school are bitches, and maybe they've been giving you a hard time as of late. But I can assure you I'm not one of them. At least, I don't think so, and my friends certainly don't. So feel free to. Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiled, and I grinned back.

"Brilliant. I'll talk to you soon." I assured her, and left the bathroom, feeling a lot better with myself than I had ten minutes before.

**Taylor POV**

My phone buzzed just after the tall girl with the brown hair (Spencer, that was her name) left the bathroom. I grabbed it, expecting a cheerful text from my old school friends. But it wasn't that.

**Welcome to the games, new kid. First things first- let's dish the goss on your new buddies. Secret Number 1- Spencer cheated on her boyfriend Toby recently. Show him the pic attached or your pics get revealed... **

**-A**

I reread the text several times, unsure of what it really meant. _Was this some kind of weird initiation test? _I opened the picture to see Spencer kissing a curly-haired guy, dated from yesterday, but it didn't really mean anything to me. Shrugging, I was about to close the message when another appeared.

**Secret Number 2- Hanna's mom stole money from her company. Make an anonymous report to the CEO, saying what I've attached. -A**

Again, another picture attachment, this one of a long boring letter that basically accused "Ashley Marin" of blatant theft from someone's account. This wasn't any of my business, and I felt uncomfortable. Yet another message appeared.

**Secret Number 3- Aria's dad had an affair with a student last year. Make a report to your principal, saying again what I've attached, alongside with these pictures. -A**

Now I was really confused, and a bit pissed off. Why would I do these horrible things to people who had only be kind to me so far? The pictures were of a bald-headed guy kissing a blonde lady, and again, meant nothing to me and made me feel awkward. Then the final text came.

**Secret Number 4- You and your toilet have a secret love affair. Publish these secrets, or these pics come out. -A**

They were pictures of me throwing up in the toilet. I froze. This person meant serious business, and they had me completely blackmailed. There was nothing I could do. I didn't want to betray the seemingly cool girls, but still...

"Mierda." I cursed under my breath.

**What's Taylor going to do? Is Emily revealing feelings or no for Spencer? Is Spencer going to rock up to Emily after she comes out of the hospital? Does it really require brains to apply awesome makeup? All these questions will be answered, and more, in the next chapter! plays dramatic music* DUN DUN DUNNN. Thanks so much for reviewing, guys :) x **

**(BTW, if you guys didn't get it, A's taken a photo of Wren and Spencer kissing and put a fake date on it to confuse Toby) :)**


	11. Two Lonely People

Emily was awake when Spencer came in this time. It was late afternoon, and Emily had been taken home a couple of hours before, fussed over by her anxious mother until she could stand no more and promptly told the woman to leave. She'd laid awake for several hours, considering her situation. With the raven watching over her, her constant dark guardian, she'd finished off the diary to give Spencer. Her fingers had developed raised red lumps after scribbling for that long, and she rubbed them absentmindedly.

While writing down absolute crap, the things she'd never thought true about Spencer, it had given her ample time to think. She did have a lot of time to do that now, true, but she'd never really given much of this time to think about Spencer. The things she wrote sparked thoughts and flashbacks in her mind. One particular sentence, repeated over and over again, chained her to a continual memory.

_She tossed her hair in a loose ponytail to the side, glaring at the girl in the orange jumpsuit who miserably chucked rubbish into a black plastic sack. "Did you at least think about my idea?"_

_Spencer had her back to her, yet it was clear what she thought exactly about the idea. "It was a bad idea when they arrested us, it's a bad idea now." She said firmly. _

_Emily spread her arms wide in frustration. "We finally have something solid, why won't you use it?"_

"_Because you can't make a deal with a rattlesnake." Spencer reasoned, her temper beginning to simmer. _

"_You can!" Emily retorted. "If you have something the rattlesnake wants."_

_Their voices were beginning to escalate now. Hanna turned around, orange community service jacket open to reveal an expensive white boob tube top underneath. "Can we stop talking about snakes?" She asked._

_Spencer turned around to face Emily. "Listen to me. We're not going to be making any kind of a deal with A. That's final." She snapped, barking the order. _

_Emily kept her glare up as she faced Spencer's back again. She took a breath, knowing the sentence she was about to say would hit the nail down into the coffin. "Maybe for you. But the rest of us don't have lawyers for parents."_

_Ooh, she'd done it now. Spencer whipped around, and it was Emily's turn to turn her back innocently. "Meaning what?" She snarled. _

"_Meaning your mom may have gotten us a deal, but if they ever find a way to charge us for killing Ali, she'll throw the rest of us under a bus to save you."_

_Aria and Hanna's eyes boggled. They had never seen Emily like this before. But Spencer didn't even act surprised. She simply picked up her rubbish bag, and threw it over Emily, a slimy mess of yoghurt past its sell-by date cascading over her. She was shocked enough to gasp. _

_Spencer watched her triumphantly, and the look didn't fade even as Emily grabbed her and attempted to tackle her, furious. Hanna blanched, Aria stood on worldlessly. The two girls grappled until Emily lashed out and kicked Spencer, hard, throwing her to the ground. _

_The other community service workers watched on, amused, as the police came charging towards the scene. By this time, Emily had Spencer pinned to the ground, despite her struggles. The police pulled her away, yelling and thrashing, and one guy took hold of Spencer's right arm and simply dragged her. _

_He underestimated the girl. As Aria finally moved into action and tried to come between the two, Spencer lunged for Emily again, only to be recaptured with a grunt by the police guy. "Whoa, Spencer, stop!" Aria yelled. _

_Spencer flailed in the guy's arms again, and still was hefted away like a sack of potatoes. Emily allowed herself to be dragged away, a smile of satisfaction on her face. This was exactly what A wanted, and she'd always prided herself on her acting. _

That scene kept playing over and over in Emily's head for no reason. At first, she thought it was simply the scene that she associated with negative comments about Spencer. But later, something about the scene repeating itself unnerved her. Her stomach felt sick just thinking about it.

She pushed the thought out of her mind again, convinced the scene and the raven were linked. The more she thought about it, the sicker she felt inside. She was glad when Spencer arrived, but she didn't show it. She wore her usual surly expression and focused on her balefully.

But Spencer seemed too tired to notice. She came in, nodded a greeting to Emily, and sat down beside her bed, leaning back with a heavy sigh and closing her eyes. "Toby and I had a fight." She informed her.

Emily said nothing. Spencer continued. "He said someone gave him a picture of me and Wren kissing, which was dated from yesterday. I tried to deny it, but he wouldn't believe me. He trusted the person who gave it, apparently."

_Taylor had known there was a right way to pull this off, and a wrong way. She wouldn't approach Toby directly. That would be way too suspicious, and if Toby became suspicious, this "A" person might release the picture. She knew what she had to do, and she pulled off the plan later that afternoon. _

_She'd seen a guy in her history class talking to Toby earlier, and by their animated body expressions and loud laughter, they must have been friends. His name was Rick. And, as luck would have it, he sat across from her. He seemed a relaxed, surfer, chilled kind of guy, who didn't answer too many questions in class, content to soak up the atmosphere. So when the teacher ordered the class to pair into groups, he appeared kind of honoured when Taylor turned to him, with a cute head tilt, and asked if she could go with him. _

"_Sure." He grinned, self-consciously, and made space for her on his desk, which she promptly dragged her chair over. _

"_Rick, right?" She asked, smiling big. "Nice to meet you."_

_Taylor had always been much more adept at talking to guys than she was at talking to girls. Guys were simpler. They wouldn't go behind your back, laugh at you meanly, create drama. When a guy didn't like someone, he exchanged a few punches with the guy, but that was that. Guys didn't have the same way of making someone feel utterly worthless the way girls did. Taylor was lonely and miserable simply because, for all the guys she could charm, she had no "girl friends" in Rosewood High. _

_But because she was a pretty, pert enthusiastic girl, she would always have a guys attention. So Rick was happy to talk to her. The two exchanged small talk for about ten minutes, before Taylor leaned in conspiratorally, after pretending to check her phone. "I just got a text from a friend of mine." She whispered. "You're a friend of Toby Cavanagh's right?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Take a look at that." She pushed her phone towards him, the picture of Spencer and the curly-haired guy kissing on the screen._

"_Whoa." He breathed, his eyes boggling. "Isn't that his..."_

"_Yeah, Spencer. Poor guy."_

_Rick frowned. "Have you shown this to anyone else?"_

"_No, god no. I don't want to embarrass him further. It'd just be cruel." _

"_Good. I think I need to show him this."_

"_Good idea. I'd hate to not know if _my _boyfriend was cheating on me."_

_Rick reached for my phone and I teasingly pulled it away. "Hey, now, what are you trying to do?"_

"_Well, I was thinking I could show him the picture on your phone." He said unsurely. "Have you got another idea?"_

_He was so eager, it was almost too easy. "Well." I teased. "I could send it to you so you could show him it, but I don't have your number, you see."_

_He laughed and blushed, but tried to cover it up unsuccessfully. "Oh, I do see. Okay. Here you go."_

"_Thanks." I purred, and within twenty minutes, Toby Cavanagh realized his girlfriend had been cheating on him. _

"Do you think A was involved?" Emily asked.

"Some way or another, I don't doubt it. But I can't exactly figure out how they were now. Toby won't answer my texts. He's mad."

_Toby had approached her as she was walking out of her class. "Spencer." He hissed. "We need to talk."_

"_Okay." She said, a little taken aback, and allowed herself to be pushed into a nearby, vacant classroom. _

_He stared at her, breathing heavily, his eyes wide and heavy. She gazed back, bewildered. "What's going on, Toby?"_

"_What." He said sharply. "Is. This?"_

_He thrust his phone into her face, a picture on the screen, the same Taylor had sent Rick. Spencer blinked at it, then she looked at him. "Toby..." She trailed off, realizing she had never told him about kissing Wren when she was drunk. _

"_You can't even explain, can you?" He said bitterly. _

_She looked closer at the photo, when she noticed the date on the bottom right hand side- dated yesterday. "Hang on." She said quickly. "It says this was taken yesterday."  
><em>

"_Exactly." Toby muttered, looking heartbroken. _

"_But I wasn't- I mean, I didn't- Nothing happened yesterday."_

_Toby wasn't interested in dates. He was upset because of the picture, and the fact Spencer wasn't even bothering to deny it, just protesting about the date. "Why would you do that?" He asked instead. "I thought you were lying about the Wren thing to keep me safe. Now it turns out it was true."_

"_No, it wasn't. I was drunk and in a hell of a state over the A thing, and I had no idea what I was doing-"_

"_I don't care!" Toby yelled. " I don't! You cheated on me! You won't even deny it!"_

"_No, I didn't!" She fired back. "I didn't cheat on you! It was when you had left-"_

"_Because I thought you were cheating on me!"_

"_I-"_

"_I thought you loved me." Toby's voice had dropped very suddenly, back down to almost a whisper. "I guess that was bullshit."_

"_No!" She said quickly. "No! I love you!"_

"_Then you sure don't act like it, going around kissing other guys."_

_Spencer had nothing to say. Tears formed in her eyes and she didn't brush them away. "I'm so sorry Toby." She said, heartfelt. "I really am. I-I do love you."_

_Toby walked to the door slowly, tears burning his own eyes, before turning to face her again. "We need some time apart." He said simply, and walked away. _

_He couldn't believe Spencer, his Spencer, the daring girl with the long brown hair, the sparkling eyes, his clever funny beautiful girlfriend, would do this to him. _

_But he had to believe it, because a picture said a thousand words. And this one spoke of the sudden, horrific shattering of Toby Cavanagh's heart. _

"This too shall pass." Emily said quietly, staring at her splayed hands in her lap.

"What?" Spencer asked brusquely, caught up in her own misery.

"This too shall pass." Emily repeated. "I say it to myself a lot. When things get too hard. When it feels like the world hates me, and I'm slowly losing my grip on everything, even myself."

This was bitingly honest. Spencer realized it, and looked up, into Emily's deep eyes. "I've been saying it a lot lately." She admitted.

"Emily." Spencer said quietly. "Can I tell you something?"

"Yes." The girl in the bed said quietly. "You can."

"You are so brave."

In Emily's mind, the raven let out a long human-like scream, a cry of agony, and fluttered away, so now it was jammed against her closed window, keening softly. She watched it sadly, and turned to Spencer again. "I'm not." She said freely, and raised her wrist upwards, showing it to Spencer.

Spencer bit down hard on her lip, wanting desperately to flinch away but not wanting to appear weak. Emily flopped her arm down onto the sheet with a sigh. "Did you kiss Wren?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"When Toby was gone, and we were trying to accuse Melissa of being A. I got drunk, I met Wren. Things went from there. I woke up at his place with a bad hangover and a bucketload of shame."

"So when, technically, you were broken up with him."

"Yeah, but he doesn't see it like that."

"You should talk to him later." Emily advised. "Not now, but later, when he calms down. Don't allow it to continue. Convince him you still love him, you'd do anything for him. It'll be okay."

"Okay." Spencer whispered, nodding her head.

Emily spoke true, like she always did. The girl leant backwards onto her pillow again, and closed her eyes, exhausted from the short conversation. "I finished the diary." She murmured, and gestured to her bedside table.

Spencer picked it up, and sank back into the chair, flipping through the pages. It was simply more blather about how much Emily hated things she really loved, or loved things she really hated. There was two pages debating whether to hook back up with Paige. Spencer smirked slightly, and set it down. "I'll drop it off tonight."

Emily nodded, her eyes still shut. "I still miss Maya." She said matter-of-factly.

"I know. I'm so sorry, Em."

"Why are you sorry?" She retorted. "It's not your fault. You didn't kill her."

"I'm sorry that you're in so much pain over it."

"Mmmph."

There was a comfortable silence. Spencer sat, tapping the book in her hand, missing Toby already but knowing Emily's advice rang true. But when Spencer was miserable about missing people, she did two things.

One: she talked to someone about it. Done.

Two: she got it off her mind, usually by excercising, or going somewhere with a friend.

"Let's do something." She announced. "Come on. You and I. We have to get out of here."

Emily's eyes opened. But she didn't argue. She lay there, motionless. Spencer marched over and gently eased the sheets off her. "You might feel like you don't have much energy, so I'll help you get dressed, and then I'll take you somewhere. It's gonna do you good to get out."

"Why are you doing this?" Emily asked, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Spencer went rifling through Emily's closet, picking out a suitable T-shirt and loose pants. "Because I think it will help you, more than any pill can."

She turned around, clothes in hand, to see Emily now looking at her, with clearer eyes. "Trust me, the more you do this, the better you'll feel, the less your mom will try and give you pills."

She helped Emily up, back to the fateful bathroom, and this time was careful not to leave her alone, as she changed, sitting on the toilet seat. Before Emily put any clothes on, she made sure to look deeply into Spencer's eyes. "I will." She agreed.

"You will what?"

"Trust you."

Spencer blinked, and smiled, before Emily shrugged and remarked, "I don't have very many other choices right now."

"Well, I'm just glad." Spencer said simply, before helping Emily get changed.

It wasn't as awkward as she thought it was going to be. The embarassment and awkwardness faded clean away once she realized she had to help a sick friend, and the only way to do it involved occasional glimpses of some parts of her friend that should be private. As soon as she'd tugged the shirt over Emily's head, she was helping the girl down the stairs, and as soon as she'd done that, she'd bundled Emily into her car and had started the engine up.

Emily blinked, looking unaware of the world around her, as Spencer carefully reversed out of the drive, and zoomed away. She pressed her face up against the window like a child, and stared curiously at all the different houses. "Where do you want to go?" Spencer asked her.

Emily didn't reply. She was too infatuated with the familiarity of the world outside. It had been at least a month since she'd got to go outside. So Spencer hazarded a guess at the best place to take her.

And it turned out, her decision was the right one.

**Where has Spencer taken Emily? Suggestions, guesses all welcome. For those of you heartbroken over Spoby, don't worry, I have plans for those two coming up soon! Hope you all liked, Emily is getting noticeably better, I'm trying not to make the story a little more uplifting. Ooh, and Taylor is an evil little minx. I'm sorry, I have no other words for her... MINX. I sound like my mother. On that note, please keep reviewing! It means a lot to me :) (by the way spinoza-off, oh no pressure at all. No pressure. I'm totally chilled now- sarcasm. Thanks so much for your lovely review though x)**


	12. It's Memories That Make Us

Spencer pulled up outside with a self-assured smile, her fingers drumming on the dashboard as she thought. Emily was still slumped in her seat, but she gazed out the windscreen, puzzled. "I haven't been here before."

"Always good to go somewhere new." Spencer informed her, leaning back across the seat and pulling a bag into her hands. "Plus, I'm positive you are going to love this place."

She swung the door open and jumped out, fondly surveying the environment, as she remembered many good times had here when she was younger. She stood on rocky ground, tall oaken trees swaying above her head, and a beautifully calm lake lapping at the shores in front of her. The water was a deep shifting blue, reflecting the trees above and the sparkling sun. She turned back to the car with a grin. "Doesn't it look amazing?"

Emily had opened the door and was now stumbling out, trying to disguise her weakness by leaning against the car, somehow exhausted. She looked around at the blissfully peaceful environment, catching her breath. The weather was delicously muggy, and she could feel sweat forming down her back from the heat. The lake seemed like a very inviting prospect, if she could move.

Spencer seemed to read her mind. "I brought your swimsuit, I knew you'd want to swim here. You can get changed in the back of the car. If you're too tired, I'll help you into the water."

Emily shot her a look of mild amazement intermingled with agreement and perhaps even, Spencer hoped, a tinge of gratefulness. She crossed over to her, and opened the door, helping her onto the back seat, then passing her the bundle of clothes. Emily marvelled to have the sleek material in her hands again. It was comforting, almost like a teddy bear. She clutched it to her chest, gently brushing it with her fingertips, in a small reverie. It was practically agonizing to take her clothes off and slip into the swimsuit, but she gritted her teeth and continued.

When she was done, she felt more tired than ever, and swayed a little, closing her eyes. The energy she had left was barely enough to keep her going. She was just about to fully fall asleep on the back seat of the car when Spencer appeared. She'd gotten changed into her swimsuit too, and gently eased Emily out of the car, helping her stumble towards the water.

"This is where I used to come all the time as a kid." Spencer informed the dozy girl. "It's a couple of miles away from my parent's lakehouse, so we used to drive here. It's always been a special place for me, we had picnics here a lot, and I remembered it to be a great swimming area."

Emily staggered fully, but Spencer's arms caught her and righted her. She peered worriedly at her. "Are you okay? Do you just want to sleep?"

Emily blinked three times, and put one foot in front of the other, a sign she wanted to continue. Spencer shrugged to herself, and the two made their shambolic way down to the lake. Their feet entered the water, Emily's first, and the girl made a murmured sound of pleasure as it swirled around and sucked at her.

**Emily POV**

I'd missed the feeling so much. The gentle tug of the water against my toes, the chill rising on my shoulders under my swimsuit, the slow descent into the silky depths. Spencer held my shoulders all the way until we were both above our heads, and then gently let go, allowing me to plunge. I opened my eyes, staring at how the sun radiated down onto the water, casting golden patterns onto the underneath. Lying underneath, floating, felt so good. The feeling of weightlessness, of gliding through an infinite space, of not being confined to the rules of gravity, was just so thrilling... I couldn't even describe it. I resurfaced with a gasp, flicking my hair back, gazing at the droplets which cacaded off in a shimmering arc.

More than anything, I felt like a small part of me had flared back into life. Adrenalin began to surge back into my veins. I was energized, something I wasn't used to. As I dropped underneath the glossy surface and prepared to set off, I saw Spencer's pale legs kicking away madly next to me, her body disappearing above. I tutted at her technique, and bobbed up again. "When you're treading water." I said calmly, "you need to relax. You're thrashing away, it's only going to use up energy."

Spencer looked surprised, and then smiled gingerly. "But if I don't thrash, I'll sink."

"No." I disagreed. "You'll sink because you're not using your arms. See. Breast stroke arms. Wide circles."

I demonstrated, loving how my hands pulled smoothly through the water, spreading my fingers wide. Spencer doubtfully copied me, paddling childishly in the water. "I don't like feeling nothing beneath me." She frowned.

"I think it's the best feeling in the world." I replied, and ducked underneath again, allowing my knees to kick above, causing silvery splashes.

I soared down to the bottom of the lake, allowing my hands to trail along the rocky surface. I felt so free, so weightless, like I'd left all my worries on the shore. The imagined image of the raven sitting on the shore, soaked, made me laugh, bubbles streaming from my mouth. I shot back up, barelling out of the water to raise my head to a cloudless sky, and smashing back down again effortlessly. Skimming against the surface, I eased into freestyle, zooming along. I glimpsed Spencer's impressed face.

She paddled aimlessly along the shore, grinning at me, standing up and allowing the water to trickle from her hair down her back. "I knew you'd love it."

I rolled my eyes, but allowed her to have her satisfaction. There was the hint of smugness on her face, much as she tried to hide it. I dipped underwater again, setting off on another lap, determined to finish a set.

When I finished, chest heaving, I swam to the shore and sat on a large rock, wringing the water out of my hair. As soon as I left the lake, I'd been overwhelmed by a feeling of exhaustion, my weight returning back to me with a dull thump. I closed my eyes and thrust my head into my hands.

Spencer carefully wrapped a towel around me, and sat down, propping her head on her hands. "Did that make you feel better, then?"

"Yes." I said simply.

"I'm glad."

I knew she meant it. I gazed at her out the corner of my eye. She stared straight ahead, in profile against the bowed trees and swirling lake behind her. Water dripped from her hair down her cheeks, but she didn't seem to care. "What are you thinking about?"

"Toby." She admitted, with a dejected face.

"Get your mind off him."

"How?" She asked, spreading her arms wide, indignant.

"Talk to me." I told her.

"About what?"

"Anything."

She sighed irritatedly, and looked down at the water, picking up a rock and chucking it down. I decided to take the initiative. "Do you remember how the five of us all met?"

Her head twitched up, and she met my eye. "No..." She said slowly. "I met you first, then Aria, then Hanna, then Ali. I don't remember all five of us meeting together."

"Well, do you remember how we met?" I asked, pointless and cheesy as it seemed.

I needed to take her mind off the boy, otherwise she'd mope around until she did something she'd regret. Wading in the memories were peaceful to me. They distracted me from reality for a little while. And I needed distraction.

She nodded, a small smile, a spark of something. Her eyes became far away. "You and your whiteout."

**Spencer POV**

_She was the girl who sat two rows to the right behind me in English, the girl with the pretty ribbon in her hair on first day, the shy girl with the wide eyes and hesitant smile. She was the girl who was too polite to say anything to me. So I took it upon myself to say things to her. _

_We were using laptops the lesson we finally got to know each other. I told the teacher mine needed charging so I needed to sit next to the wall, where the power sockets were. She let me go, and I hovered above Emily, who gave me a nervous look. "Spencer Hastings."_

"_Emily Fields." She smiled, accepting my hand I extended to shake politely. _

"_Nice to meet you. Let's get this introduction started. I'm Spencer, I love field hockey and tennis, I'm aiming for a perfect GPA, and if anything gets in my way so help me God. Also, I'm planning to be class president next year. Vote for me?"_

_Emily was taken aback. "You're asking votes for something that's going to happen next year? Already?"_

"_Yep." I affirmed. "As you can tell, I am _serious _about winning."_

"_Yeah, you are." She agreed with an embarassed laugh._

_I slid in neatly next to her, plugging my laptop in for charging. Emily attempted to help me, and our hands bumped, resulting in more awkward laughter. "How about you?" I asked, once we had quietened._

"_Huh?"_

"_I've introduced myself." I explained, and gestured to her. "Now your turn."_

"_Okay. I love swimming, I'm aiming to get decent grades this year and, um, I also love zombies movies."_

"_Zombie movies?"_

"_I couldn't think of anything else." She said self-consciously. _

"_No, no they're interesting and all. Did you know there's a species of baculovirus that infects gypsy moth catepillars and essentialy turns them into zombies? It apparently takes over their brain and forces them to climb trees, where the virus eventually liquifies the body into dripping goo which rains down below the tree, so that new gypsy moth catepillars can be exposed to the virus still living in the goo. So, basically, zombies do exist in catepillars."_

_Emily's eyes were wide. "So you're saying there's zombie insects? Brain-eating and all."_

"_Zombie gypsy moth catepillars." I corrected. "It's yet to be discovered whether the virus can infect other insects, or if the moths have a desire to eat brains. But if it can infect other things, we could be facing a real-life zombie movie."_

"_That's _so _cool." Emily grinned, actually interested. _

_I smiled like I was the creator of gypsy moths themselves. We would have talked further, but the teacher began ranting about the project they were meant to do. We apparently had to create an imaginary setting and write about it. "What are you doing?" I asked once the teacher had finished lecturing. _

"_Hmm. Well, I had this idea while she was talking. You know Roman history, like the gladiators who fought in the Colosseum?"_

"_Do I know Roman history." I said sarcastically. She smirked. "Yes, go on."_

"_Well, I'm thinking of the house of a gladiator. Like, one of the really big ones who kept on winning. I could see it in my mind's eye really well. See, he's a famous gladiator. He fights with so many others, and always survives to live another day. But at the end of it all, when he's stepped out of the arena, covered in blood and dirt, with the crowd going wild for him, he's got this house to come back to."_

_I listened, enthralled. "And in that house, it's the nicest house you can imagine. In the front yard, there's neat rose bushes and two big old trees. It has a huge porch, where all the Romans come and take their sandals off, and as you go inside the door, there's beautiful paintings all along the walls and a warm wooden floor. And as you go into the living room, the gladiator's wife and daughter are sitting there, to welcome him back home after another long day of fighting. The wife's got the fire on, and the daughter's just come out of the pool outside, and it's just... just..."_

_She trailed off then, and I glanced at her, noting how she was flushing red. "Um, it's kind of dumb." She muttered, and went rifling through her notes, avoiding my eye._

"_I think it's great." _

_She smiled, still embarassed, but popped her head up to look at me again. "Thanks." She said sincerely. "What's yours about?"_

"_I'm thinking of an abandoned ski chalet in the Bordeaux mountains, left alone to rot, because the people who were last in it had a massive argument and all killed each other."_

_I'd gotten the idea from a skiing holiday my family and I had gone on last year. I had been excited for the trip for many months, but when the time came, my parents could barely look at each other in the eye without sparking an argument. So I had sat miserably inside the chalet, not allowed to go out on the slopes without adult supervision, while Melissa skied to her heart's content. _

"_That's a really good idea." Emily complimented. "What was the argument about?"_

"_I honestly don't know." I murmured miserably. _

_She blinked at me, and I shrugged. "Guess I'll have to make it up!"_

_We went about our work merrily for about ten minutes more, until I screwed up. The first requirement for the setting was that we first had to sketch it. I'd gotten a particular angle of the roof wrong- of course, I was drawing it in architectural style- and turned to Emily. "Do you have any whiteout?"_

"_Whiteout?"_

"_You know, Twink, liquid paper, correction fluid."_

"_Oh! Yeah, I do." She said, passing a small bottle of it. _

_I twisted the stubborn cap to open it, surprised at how stiff it seemed. I tried again and again to pop the thing open, straining my arm muscles. Emily eventually leant forward to help. "Here." She said kindly, and was about to try twist it when the cap popped open, and the white fluid poured over me._

"_Oh my god!" I yelled, pulling the leaking bottle away, as Emily gaped at how the mess had spread over the cute skirt I'd been wearing that day. "Oh... My... God!" I said again. _

_She seized the bottle and twisted the cap firmly on, before assessing the damage. "I'm sorry!" She said quickly. "Is it okay?"_

"_Why are you sorry? Wasn't your fault." I asked, grabbing a tissue out of my pocket and dabbing at the mess. "Think it's gonna mess up my skirt a bit though."_

_She peered down at it, and seeing the giant, white, if now slightly faded blob, she made a choked sound. "It looks like pigeon poop."_

_I grinned, laughing. "It does, actually!"_

_She coughed abruptly as I continued mopping at it, and I glanced at her. "You're trying not to laugh."_

"_Yep." She admitted, giggling. _

_We looked at the stain, and kept laughing together, for no apparent reason. I should have been grumpy. It was an expensive preppy skirt. I'd effectively ruined it. Yet the way she was trying to disguise the fact that she found it amusing made me laugh, as if she really cared enough to try not to hurt my feelings but still found it really funny. We laughed so hard the teacher told us to be quiet, a new experience for me. _

_The bell rang, and we stood up, tidying our books and laptops away. I smiled. "See you at lunch?"_

_She met my eye, and gratefulness shone deep in her face, before it was quickly masked. "That'd be great." She said warmly. _

"_See ya, Emily." I said brightly, and wandered away, with the bright fuzzy feeling you get when you make a new friend._

"That stain's still on the skirt." I informed her.

"What, you didn't throw it away?"

"No. I don't know why I haven't thrown it, I haven't worn it since that day."

She nodded, yawning, and pulled the towel tighter around her. "Are you cold?" I asked.

"A little. And tired, but that's nothing new."

Our eyes met with understanding. I put a hand onto her back. "Do you want to go home?"

"No." She said vehemently. "Anywhere but there."

"Okay." I agreed. "We can go chill in the car for a bit, get changed. It's warmer in there."

She slipped her legs off the rock, and stumbled towards the car, me following close behind with a careful arm propping and guiding her. She turned to me just as we reached it. "Remember the Lantern Festival?"

"Of course." I smiled. "Why?"

"Just thought of it now. On the subject of memories."

I helped her into the car, and found her clothes. "We had a good time then. The fireworks were amazing."

_We'd wandered away from Hanna and Aria, who were busy cooing over a tree adorned with paper lanterns that fluttered in the breeze. The entire point of the festival was that it took place at night, and everyone had to bring a lantern. I was amazed at how familiar faces turned alien under the flickering lights, how colourful a dismal night could become. Emily and I had headed for the food stores, being starving teenage girls. _

_As we emerged from a stand, Emily chowing down on noodles, I pointed to the hill that soared far above the park that the festival was in. "Look, up there will be the perfect view for the fireworks. I'll text Hanna and Aria, they can meet us there."_

_Emily nodded, and grinning, grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the hill. We weaved our way through the crowds, with the occasional alarmed shout from annoyed people, plunging into the darkness above. We ducked behind a stand, leaping over electrical cords, feet scrabbling against the grass, running for no reason at all and loving every minute of it. _

_I could hear her laugh loudly, with the madness of it all, and I joined in, even as I tripped again and again in the dark. We fought our way up the hill, gripping at tussocks of grass and gasping for breath. Somehow her hand was still firmly holding mine. We finally arrived at the top, and I threw myself down, exhausted. _

_She followed, pulled down by me, still laughing. I poked her. "What's so funny?"_

"_We're crazy." She gasped. _

"_Crazy doesn't even begin to describe it." I smiled. "Why were we running?"_

"_I was running cause you were running."_

"_Well, that makes perfect sense, cause I was running cause you were running."_

_She chuckled again, even as she panted. "Okay, so we're also idiots."_

"_That is true." I smiled. "Despite the 3.7 GPA I recently-"_

"_Spencer." Emily said sharply, yet jokingly._

"_Okay." I said mock-crying. "I guess you just don't appreciate my joy."_

"_Not when it's all you ever talk about."_

"_Hey!" I replied, slightly offended. "I talk about other things!"_

"_Oh, sorry, 3.7 GPA and Toby's penis size."_

_I gasped. "Emily!" _

"_By your obviously bais estimations, it should be the size of your average salami." She smirked. _

_I couldn't see in the dim light, so it was hard to find her cheek to slap it in retort. I ended up hitting her nose and she pushed me away, laughing loudly. I growled warningly at her. "Do that again and I'm chucking you off this hill, face-first."_

"_Rude." She sat up, jokingly shoving me. "Where are Hanna and Aria?"_

_I pulled out my phone, the light glowing underneath my face and illuminating Emily's. She looked spectral in the blue light, and she pulled a face dorkishly. "You look like a ghost."_

"_Can we not talk about ghosts right here on this creepy old hill?" I asked, opening the message._

**Half-price at Hollister. We're very sorry but this kind of opportunity comes once in a lifetime.**

**-Hanna**

"_Don't tell me you're scared." Emily laughed. "I thought you were too scientific to believe in ghosts."_

"_It's a deep fear of all things supernatural ever since Melissa forced me to watch an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when I was five. I've never been the same."_

"_Because Buffy is well known for being one of the scariest TV shows out there."_

"_The hill-chuck threat still stands, Fields." I retorted. "Hanna and Aria ditched to go shopping."_

_Emily looked incredulous. "At 9:30 at night?"_

"_The magnetic pull of Hollister on Hanna Marin does not weaken at night, evidently."_

"_Ugh!" Emily proclaimed. "She'll miss the fireworks."_

"_Who needs fireworks when you can have designer polos from a ridiculously over priced store, right?" I asked sarcastically._

"_Hmph. You wanna light the lanterns?"_

"_Sure." _

_We'd agreed, Hanna, Aria, Emily and I, that we'd all buy lanterns and set them off to fly free at one particular place. The lanterns represented two things- a wish we desperately wanted to come true this year, and a worry. Our worries were all the same. Our wishes were completely different. _

_Emily pulled a lighter out of her bag. My eyes boggled. "You carrying that around with you normally?"_

"_You never know when you might need a lighter."_

"_If you're a pothead."_

"_Spencer, there have been emergencies where the lighter's come in handy."_

"_What's this? I seem to be trapped in a cage made up of marijuana! Lighter to the rescuuuue!"_

"_If you're gonna chuck me off the hill, I will burn you with this damn thing." She warned, and pulled the lantern out of her bag, admiring it._

_Ours were both the same shades of bright orange, but we'd all added personal touches to it. Em's wish was to break her record at swimming. She'd carefully illustrated waves lapping around the lantern. Mine was to try and get excellent grades. I'd written words along the orange paper surface, all ones I'd tried to learn throughout the year for extra credit vocab. Hanna's had different clothing items drawn on it- her wish to stop shoplifting- and Aria's had copied versions of her sketches, as her wish was for her art to get recognized. _

_Emily flicked the lighter on, held it to her candle, and it sparked into life. I handed her mine and she did the same. We stood, gazing at the lights we held in our hands. "Let's hope these wishes come true." Emily said solemnly._

"_And that the worry ends." I said grimly. "3, 2, 1..."_

_We lifted them into the air and watched them float up into the sky, until all we could see were two pinpricks of light. "That felt nice." Emily smiled. "Kind of liberating."_

"_Who'da thought it, lanterns make Emily Fields turn sappy."_

"_Shut up." Emily demanded, but as the fireworks began to peal and burn above our heads, she quietly leant her head onto my shoulder. "I hope this year is better than the last."_

"_Me too, Em." I whispered, finding her hand and squeezing it. "Me too."_

By the time the memory had ended, and I'd been zapped back to reality, Em was changed and lying on my back seat comfortably. I returned to the car, smiling at her. "You can sleep there if you want. I'll drive somewhere nice."

She didn't reply, curled up with her eyes shut, so I swung myself into the front seat and headed off. I was hungry, so decided to drive back into town to go to a cafe. Emily didn't utter a word the entire trip. I tried to make conversation, but she simply didn't respond. I reasoned she was too tired, and so drove in silence.

Guilt was gnawing at my insides over the picture Toby had received. I hated that I'd kissed Wren, and I hated the memory of enjoying it. I hated that he wasn't replying to my calls, I hated that I couldn't stop thinking about him, I hated that it was all my fault. The entire situation was just shit.

I thought dark, angry thoughts as I drove, and I suppose that's why I didn't realize my phone was buzzing in the back seat. My mind was too preoccupied by the teenage angst that I didn't even notice it. Yet it must have woken Emily up. When I pulled over next to a cafe, I felt a hand tap my back. I twisted around and smiled at her. "Good nap?"

She didn't say anything, just handed me my phone. It had been unlocked- she knew my password. I frowned at her, then peered at the image on the screen.

It was A. It was always going to be A. **"Just to replace that picture you lost... Tick tock, Spence. -A"**

"It's an empty threat." I informed her. "They're trying to make me hurry up to get your diary. Whatever."

"How about you look at the attachment?" Emily whispered, ice cold.

I did. And my stomach dropped. It was the same photoshopped picture I'd found in my locker. I felt nauseous again, as I did every time I looked at it. "Ugh." I groaned. "A's sick sense of humour, Em, even though that one's particularly weird."

Emily said nothing, just watched me through her hooded eyes, giving me the chilling idea she was trying to see inside my head. "Why are you glaring at me? I didn't sit down with A and say 'hey, can you send that really creepy photoshopped picture of Em and I kissing, k thanks love you so much!'."

Still nothing. "Em, _come _on."

Tightened lips. "Look, I know it's bad and I'm sorry you had to see it."

A blink. "It's just A being creepy. Can we please ignore it?"

Swallow. "At least it's not a death threat."

Inhale. "Talk to me."

Exhale. "Em, it's not my fault."

Clenched jaw. "Why are you even... being like that?"

Another blink. I'd had enough. "Look, I'm going to go and grab something from the cafe. Stay here. I'll get you something."

No reply, but I knew that was going to happen. I stormed out of the car, slammed the door shut, and stomped into the cafe, ordering two massive Danishes and a decent coffee. I was so angry I couldn't think straight. My hands continually curled into fists. It wasn't my goddamn fault. I was embarassed enough about the photo as it was, and of course I'd be sensitive to whatever comment she made about it. The fact she seemed so outraged yet blank about in infuriated me. _Why is she being that way?_

Eventually, my temper cooled enough to go and collect the Danishes and coffee with a grim expression. If she was going to ignore me, I'd ignore her too. With set resolve, I set back to the car, popping open the door and looking into the back grumpily.

She wasn't there.

The door was shut, and she wasn't in the car.

_Oh my God. _

_No, no, no Emily, please no..._

**Thank you all so much for reviewing! 117? :O absolutely amazing. I feel so popular. Lol JK only on the internet. Love you all, hope you appreciate the cliffhanger ;) -Elmo xx**


	13. Even Broken Wings Can Fly Away

**Emily POV**

I was weak, but you don't need to be particularly strong to jump onto a bus. The journey from the car to the bus stop across from the cafe had been hard going yet I'd persevered. With only one suspicious glance from the shaven-headed guy listening to his iPod across from me, I counted that as pretty good going. The bus prices had changed since I'd last been on one. It cost a nickel more to get to Rosewood Mental Hospital.

I knew that if Spencer knew where I was going, she would have a heart attack and jump in her car to come and rescue poor, deluded me. I didn't need that, so I ran as soon as she stomped into the cafe, quickly as I could. The irony was that I was going because of her. Because of that goddamn picture.

As soon as I saw the picture, I knew it was a threat. Not for Spencer. For me. A had taken the only thing I really held to value anymore, and darkly sent the message that they had full control over her. A kiss was the perfect way to show it, photoshopped as it was. I kissed Maya, she died. I kissed Alison, she died. A was evil in photoshopping Spencer's head next to mine. They dared me to get any closer.

And dared I did. I was closer than ever before. And now I was panicking and trying to pull away, for Spencer's sake. It was like A was a jealous, jilted lover of mine. As soon as anyone crossed the barrier between friends and lovers, A would become dark and threatening. Once I discovered I loved the person, well, it was A's cue to destroy them. Jealous, twisted and making me thoroughly miserable.

So I had to run. To get away from Spencer, cause the longer I spent in that car, the more dangerous A became. I was sitting on the bus, chewing on my nail, when my phone buzzed yet again. I nearly jumped a foot in the air.

**You've got it all figured out Killer. I knew you were my favourite for a reason. Now kick the detective to the kerb. **

**-A**

I swallowed, eyes blurring, throat scratchy and sore. I knew exactly what A wanted me to do. To push Spencer away, to hurt her. To act like I wasn't grateful for how she'd stuck by my side when everyone else had left me. To revert back into my old self, where the raven had an iron grip on my throat and turned my words into weapons. Otherwise Spencer would get hurt.

But I couldn't. I couldn't stand there and insult her time after time and watch her hazel eyes flinch away. I remembered doing that with self-hatred. I couldn't believe I had. It had seemed so easy a couple of months ago, and now it was impossible.

I tried to figure out A's motive. A wanted Spencer and me to seperate. Something about Spencer and I's relationship annoyed him... her... it. I considered it for a while. A had killed my previous girlfriend and love interest. The connections there were love. _Does that... wait, does that mean what I... _

A thought Spencer and I were interested in each other. That's why it was threatening.

My gut plunged. It seemed like I'd known it all along and yet it was a huge surprise. The bus came to another grinding halt and I jerked forward, slamming my head against the seat in front of me. The person in the seat, a white-haired grandmother, turned around and gazed anxiously at me. "Are you all right, dearie? That was quite some knock."

_Well, old woman, my friends and I are being targeted by an anonymous stalker who's become convinced my closest friend is hooking up with yours truly. So I have to distance myself from said friend to stop them dying. Also, my girlfriend died a month ago and I'm suffering severe depression. I'm not really fucking dandy at the moment. Say it. Just say "not really". Come on, weakest link. Say it, sa-_

"Fine." I smiled politely.

She smiled back, gums and all, and turned back to her seat. I massaged my head gently, frowning. A thought Spencer and I had something going on and was fearful of it. Perhaps not fearful, perhaps just thought they could use it as a threat. But either way, A was convinced of it. And was trying to break it up.

I nodded to myself. This made sense. The one thing that would piss A off was Spencer and I getting closer. So, it needed us to separate, and threatened me with Spencer's life. My phone buzzed again. It was an incoming call from Spencer. Her icon blazed on the screen. It was a picture of her just after getting her exam results. Her face was flushed, her hair was tousled, and she'd just emerged from a heartfelt hug with Aria. She beamed at the camera with her toothiest grin, her eyes alive.

It was an unusual picture of her. Nearly all of her pictures involved her immaculate, posing, always careful to be perfect. Her hair would be neatly done up, her face wary to show emotion, even if she was in a photo with all of us, her friends. And that was why I loved it. Because in the photo, she was the Spencer I knew and loved, the one who momentarily forgot the perfection and just decided to have a good time. She looked full of emotion and real.

I stared at the photo for a little while longer, appreciating her facial expression, before pressing the "Decline" button and switching my phone off with a sigh. I didn't want to run from her, but this was something I needed to do. If I wanted her to stay safe, to stay alive.

**Kick the detective to the kerb. **

**Killer. **

The bus stopped outside the hospital, and I heaved myself off. The mental section of the building was to the left and down the long terraced area. I walked so slowly a guy on a zimmer frame passed me. But that was okay. I didn't need to go fast, where I was going.

Eventually, I made it into the building, and sluggishly walked up to the reception. A bright-eyed girl who looked way too young to be working in such a place smiled at me. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to see Mona Vanderwaal, please." I requested.

Not exactly requested. More demanded. The please was almost ironic due to the steely tone in my voice. And I knew exactly whom I'd copied it off.

The girl blinked. "Okay. Can I get your name?"

"Spencer Hastings."

_Because it wouldn't be suspicious if Spencer visited the girl who killed her best friend's girlfriend. But if Emily Fields visited the girl who killed her girlfriend, alarm bells would ring. _

"I'll let her know you're coming." The receptionist assured me, and gestured to the elevator. "Third floor, fifth on the left."

I smiled coldly, my way of thanks, and headed for the elevator as quick as I could. Which wasn't very fast. The elevator played cheery music even as I stepped out of it, down the shiny white corridor, nurses bustling around me. I caught snatches of conversation.

"Jenkin's wet himself again-"

"Daniel won't stop screaming, so he needs some-"

"Ingrid's got a haemorrage now, worst luck."

"We're a bit understaffed right now, so I'll try to-"

"Don't go near her. She's not only got clinical depression-"

That one I raised my eyebrows at, and snorted softly. Not only. What had that poor wretch received from life, apart from a soul-sucking disease that tore the happiness out of you? What had they done to deserve such a horrific fate?

The answer was probably nothing. Same as me. I've done some bad things in my life, but not bad enough that my girlfriend, the one I truly loved, needed to be killed for my crimes. Thinking of that made anger bubble up inside of me, and I took a breath, uncurling the fists that had bunched at my side. I sighed.

A nurse stopped me as I headed towards the fifth room on the left. "You a visitor?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Mona Vanderwaal."

She blinked at me. Her expression simply said: _Why would you want to visit her? _"Relative?"

"Yes." I lied efficiently.

"Follow me." She said gruffly, and charged into the fifth room.

She unhooked a set of keys, slotted on into the barred door, and swung it open. "Mona, you've got a visitor." She called, and left me to it.

I stepped into the room quietly, my heart thumping. On a white-sheeted hospital bed sat Mona Vanderwaal. Her hair had gone kinky and frizzy, her face was spotty without makeup, and she was dressed in a plain white hospital gown. Her hands gripped the side of the bed tightly, like she was afraid to let go. But her eyes gazed into my soul, deep pools with the mad glint I'd recognized in mine own eyes when I looked in the mirror and saw the raven there.

I nearly took a step back. The recognition was all too much. I saw in her the terrifying reality of what I could be, all at once. I thought of Spencer. I wonder if she saw me, thought of me like this. My heart tore. I choked, and stumbled. "You're not Spencer Hastings." Mona said accusingly, humor evident in her voice.

I righted myself and met her eyes coldly. "No, I don't think I am." I agreed. "You know who I am."

"Of course I do. You're one of the bitches." She smirked.

I smiled back vemenously. "I am, aren't I?"

"You're the one who dated the bitch."

"That would be me."

"I killed her." Mona grinned madly, showing all of her pearly whites, her eyes wide and bloodshot. "Would you like to know how?"

It hadn't been a good idea coming here, I decided immediately. All I would hear was excruciating details of how Maya died, things I didn't need to know, things that would only invoke the black raven sweeping back into the room. But I stayed upright and looked as strong as I could. "Why not?" I asked, the acidic words spilling off my tongue.

"She was walking home on a dark night. She didn't know anything was going to happen. She was wrong." Mona giggled like a child. "I came up behind her. I had a knife. And I slit her throat. Ccck!"

I blanched, my heart beating fast and my stomach afire, but still kept my position as straight as I could. "I came to see you for a reason, Mona." I told her.

"Has A been bothering you?" She said with a mischevious smirk, that would have been considered cute in the days before she went mad.

Now it just looked disturbing. "Yes." I retorted icily. "And I suppose you know exactly what about."

"Oh, I do." Her tongue dangled out. "I do indeed. Yessir. Yes indeedy."

She was rambling now. I tried to focus her. "No matter what A thinks, there's no relationship between Spencer and I."

"Why?" Mona asked, swinging her head back and forth like she was some kind of freakish puppet. "Don't you want there to be?"

I ignored the childish jibe. "There's nothing between us."

Mona became bored with this topic. She bent her head to the side and smiled sinisterly. "It was a quick death."

I didn't want to talk about it. I turned away. "If there is no relationship between Spencer and I, will A leave Spencer alone?"

"Oh Emily." Mona giggled. "It was never a question of your relationships, you know. It was a question of torturing you in the best way possible."

I met her eye. The fact she was talking about me in such an off hand way, my emotions and feelings, made my skin crawl. "Killing Maya was the best way." Mona continued. "If only you could have seen the look in her eyes when she died. She was so scared. I laughed. She was oh so funny when she was scared. "Don't kill me" she screamed. "Please! I have money!". Silly little Maya. She never knew the reason why I was killing her was because of her stupid bitch girlfriend."

I saw red. That's one way of putting it. I heaved for breath, anger taking over my entire body. My fingers itched to step forward and throttle the girl who sat on the bed with an evil smile. "You're sick." I managed.

"Otherwise I wouldn't be here." She grinned, her eyes overly wide in her head.

"You don't belong in here." I spat. "You belong in a jail, where you'd rot for the rest of your miserable life."

"Oooh, do I detect a hint of bitterness? In that case, let me tell you one more thing about Maya." Her eyes glittered with insanity. "As she collapsed, blood pouring from her slit neck, would you like me to tell you what she said? What her last words were?"

I started forward, limbs urging me to action, to fight her, to take revenge, when she whispered, in a mock-choked voice "_Emily._"

I faltered. My hands fell to my sides, and tears began pouring out of my eyes. I'd let her get to me, I was weak, weak, _weak_. "That was her last ever word she said." Mona smiled. "Doesn't that make you feel _special_, weakest link?"

I didn't even react. Tears streaked down my face, and I made no effort to wipe them away. "You're a monster." I murmured.

"Only the biggest and baddest."

I turned to the door, knowing I'd achieved nothing, cascades of misery pumping through me. Her last words. She'd called to me, for help. And I'd failed her. _No, Maya, Maya..._

_My Maya. _

It was like she'd appeared right in front of me, head cocked to the side like she did when she was confused, a small comforting smile on her face. Her black hair was glossy, her face tanned and smooth. "Emily." She whispered.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "No." I replied, hating myself utterly, drenched in my tears and anger.

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was."

"No, it was Mona's, and you know it. Now cut it out. You don't think I hate to see you hurting?"

"Maya." I said miserably, and reached for her, opening my eyes.

A familiar face was standing there, not Maya, no way Maya. But her hazel eyes were streaked with tears and she watched me with deep sorrow, a knowing expression. "I knew you'd come here." She said softly. "You had to, didn't you?"

I blinked at her, and as she stepped forward and gathered me into a hug, I didn't object. I ignored Mona's scathing, heckled comments from the other side of the room. I leant my head on her shoulder and tried to stop the tears flowing, and wrapped my arms around her back. "I'm sorry." I whispered. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

We broke apart, and she smiled weakly at me and shook her head. "Don't be sorry. I just knew it would hurt you if you did this. Come on. Let's go home."

I let her lead me out of the room, down back into the elevator, past the shocked receptionist, into the car park. I felt like the world had closed in on me. My heart thrumming was all I could hear, like I'd fallen down a big black tunnel and couldn't get out. "Maya." I whispered, feeling blindly for her.

But all that was there was Spencer, and she didn't hear my plaintitive cry, but held me tighter, a tight arm around my waist. She strapped me into the front seat carefully, took a tissue out of her pocket and gently wiped the tears off my face. "You want- you want to know what she told me." I sniffed nonsensically.

"I was there the whole time." She confessed, rubbing my back. "And you didn't deserve to know that. No one did."

"I hate her."

"So do I." Spencer replied. I knew she meant it.

"She killed her. She took her from me." I growled, anger returning in a heavy cloud of pain.

Spencer sent me a tender look that I almost flinched away from. "There's nothing you can do, Emily. Please. Stop hurting yourself."

I inhaled deeply, and scrubbed at my eyes with my fists. The anger died down as Spencer gave me another hug. "You know something?"

"Mmmph." I said into her shoulder.

"She'd want you to be happy."

I pulled away again, and bit my lip, gazing at Spencer with new eyes. "It's not that easy to be happy."

"Little steps, Em, little steps." She informed me with a gentle smile, and twisted the keys in the ignition.

I leaned against the car window and stared at Spencer, for no reason at all. I committed her details to memory. Her sharp strong cheekbones, that led up to her pierced ears covered by dark tresses of hair. Her curved, pink lips, her straight nose, the eyes behind them that appeared smudged from the wiped mascara around them. The dark hazel of her eyes, her neatly plucked eyebrows, her round forehead. The few moles she had, two dotted on her cheeks, one on her pale neck. Her long fingers gripping the steering wheel confidently, her focused intent expression. "Stop it." She said out of the corner of her mouth.

"Stop what?"

"You're staring at me as if A is going to drag me out of the window at any second."

I shrugged like I couldn't care what she thought and instead looked out the window. "At least Maya died quickly." I found myself saying.

"Yes." Spencer agreed.

"But she called my name. And I couldn't help her."

"Emily, you were a whole state away. You couldn't have helped her. No one could have."

"It was my fault she died."

"Don't you dare say that." Spencer snapped. "It was not your fault. It was Mona's. All Mona's."

"She killed her because of me."

"She killed her because she's criminally insane, and that's what insane people do. It was not your fault. Do you hear me? You have Mona only to blame for Maya's death. She's the one who killed her. There is _nothing _ you could have done."

Spencer seemed irate. I blinked at her, and shrunk away. The car came to a red light and she took her hands off the wheel to softly rub my back again. "I'm sorry." She said sincerely. "I just don't like hearing you say that, cause it's not."

I nodded, acknowledging her doubts, and turned back to the window again. "Promise me you won't run off by yourself on crazy things ever again." Spencer said, holding out her pinky.

"Pinky promise? Really now?"

"Em."

I sighed and curled her pinky finger around mine. "Are you taking me to my place?"

"Yes."

"Can I stay at yours?"

"If you'd like. You'll have to text your mum."

"Can you do it?"

"Once I've stopped driving." Spencer said soothingly, smiling at me.

I loved it when she smiled. Her dimples curved into life on her cheeks, her eyes became brighter. She didn't look so tight, so perfectly poised when she smiled. She relaxed. "You look nicer when you smile." I said, off-hand.

She looked at me, blushed, and smiled again. "Thank you." She said, a little taken aback. "So why do you want to go to my place?"

"After finding out what happened to Maya, I don't want to be alone."

"That's understandable. But I'm warning you. I won't sleep much tonight."

"I don't sleep much either. So that'll be fine."

She pulled up abruptly, slipping a package out of her bag and flinging the door open. "Time to do A's dirty work." She grimaced. "Duck down. We don't know if they are watching."

I noticed the population sign outside, and so crawled down into my seat, under the window. I curled into a ball on the floor, banging my head against the stairwell and cursing softly, then peering up.

The raven was sitting on Spencer's seat.

"No." I whispered, panicking. "No. Go away."

It cawed harshly and cocked its head. Sweat broke out on my palms. I inhaled a shuddering breath. "Please go." I begged. "I don't need you here, right now. I-I don't need you anywhere. Go. I don't want you."

It watched me silently, a black widow, a quiet killer. The beady tinged eyes flickered crazily. I breathed through my nose, trying to will it away. Trying to beat it with my mental force. "I hate you." I muttered. "I hate what you turn me into. I hate what you do to me. I hate everything about you. I want you to leave. Now."

But no amount of icy words would ever vanquish this demon. I shuddered slightly, and it started forward, enough to make me flinch. It seemed to smirk. I gritted my teeth and slowly, gently moved my arm on top of my own seat. "Go away."

No response. I closed my eyes in momentary regret. "I'm sorry, Maya, but I hate what your death has done to me." I whispered in a prayer, meant only for her ears.

The raven laughed. Soft at first, a rasping noise, but louder and louder, until it filled my head with persistent raucous buzzing. I clapped my hands to my ears but it continued inside of my mind. It didn't stop. HaHAhaHAhaHAhaHAhaHA.

"Stop." I hissed, trying to jam my fingers in, to block the sound.

HaHahaHAhaHAhaHAhaHA. HaHAhaHAhaHAhaHAhaHA. HaHAhaHAhaHAhaHAhaHA. The relentless slow laughter trickled through my ears until I could think of nothing else.

"Leave me."

HaHAhaHAhaHAhaHAhaHA.

"Go away."

HaHAhaHAhaHAhaHAhaHA.

"Get lost."

HaHAhaHAhaHAhaHAhaHA.

"I hate you!"

HaHAhaHAhaHAhaHAhaHA.

I tried to regain control, hissing curses, trying not to yell, but the laughter pulsed inside my head. It dulled, but brought no relief, as now it felt like footsteps bearing down on my brain. I curled my arms protectively over my head, but the stamping only increased.

BoomBOOMboomBOOMboomBOOM.

"Get out of my mind."

BoomBOOMboomBOOMboomBOOM.

"I want you gone."

BoomBOOMboomBOOMboomBOOM.

"I hate what you're doing."

BoomBOOMboomBOOMboomBOOM.

"You need to GO!"

BoomBOOMboomBOOMboomBOOM.

"FUC-"

And the footsteps suddenly faded. Just like that. Zapped out of my mind. Shivering, I pulled my arms away, and saw Spencer staring at me. "Em?" She asked, bottom lip trembling.

Mona's deranged eyes suddenly danced in my imagination again, and how I had found them so similar to mine own. Cold sweat clung to my arms and my hair was wild. I couldn't imagine how I looked to her. And I couldn't even speak to justify why I was sprawled in the footwell screaming.

She shuffled a little closer over the seat. I shrunk back. "Emmy, it's me." She whispered. "Spencer. Hey, hey, it's just me."

I watched her every movement, aware of how I'd transformed from a good friend to a paranoid psychopath. She gently leaned forward to murmur down to me. "Hey, it's Spence. I'm not gonna hurt you. I won't even touch you."

I watched her, my eyes blurred with what I knew were burgeoning tears. She slowly leant back and shut the door. I was immediately filled with a strong sense of claustrophobia, of being locked in, the walls of the car closing in on me, everything grinding closer, everything pressed up against my face-

"NO!" I screamed, raw and desperate.

Spencer leaped back and swung the door wide open again. For some reason, I was curled on the floor again, tears streaking down my face. "No, no no no." I gasped.

"No." She agreed, and stayed where she was.

She was analysing the situation. I knew, I knew her way too well. And I knew this was one puzzle she couldn't figure out. One smashed bowl she couldn't painstakingly glue back together. She couldn't pick up my pieces and mend me. Only I could.

And yet I desperately wanted to. I needed saving. I wanted her to be my Superman. But the only person who could save me was myself.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I was making a high-pitched keening noise the entire time, so panicked and fearful that anyone within a ten mile radius could have heard it. So much for hiding from A. I couldn't be left alone for more than a minute without having a total breakdown.

I tried to focus on my heartbeat, the rhythmic thump of my existence, in an attempt to calm myself down. But the quiet pulse reminded me too much of thumping footsteps, of cackled laughter, and so I dropped that idea with a shudder. Spencer was watching me the entire time. "Em." She whispered, suddenly, alerting me again.

I looked at her this time, my eyes wide and bloodshot and glossy. Her lip was so bitten blood was oozing out of it, down her chin, but I don't think she realized. "I need to close the car door, Em."

I practically hyperventilated. She leant in closer as I freaked out, and began murmuring into my ear. "If you do this, the quicker you can get to my house, the quicker it's going to be. I need you to stay calm. I'm here the entire time. I won't leave you again."

_Why is it that "I won't leave you again" calms me more than any other words?_

She seemed to notice the effect her last words had on me. I shut my mouth and momentarily stopped keening. "I'm right here, hun, I'm not going to let you go. I promise. I will be here as long as you need me to. I'm not going anywhere."

And with that, she slowly pulled herself onto my seat, and put a gentle hand on my shoulder. I surprised myself by not flinching away. She smiled weakly, which looked frightening against all the blood. "That's it, Em, that's good, that's great. Here we are. I'm not going."

She rubbed my back gently, and my keening lowered in volume, until it was nothing more than a slow expel of air, in and out, like I was shouting in whispers. Her hands hooked under my armpits, reassuringly firm, and she smoothly lifted me up, back onto the seat. I whimpered once, pitifully.

She strapped me in like a baby, and stroked my hair, pulling it away from my forehead. "That's great, Em, you know how good you're doing? You're fantastic. Now we just gotta close the door, okay? I'll be right with you the whole time. Here." And she curled her fingers around mine and squeezed my hand tight as she swung the door shut.

I dug my nails into the back of her hand, and she grunted but didn't yell. Unlike me, who made a strangled yelp. Her arms were immediately holding me tight, as I tried to yell again and choked. "That's brilliant, Em, well done." She informed me. "You seriously are the best. It's all over now. We just have to sit tight like this until we get to my house, okay?"

I tried to speak but all I made was an ugly snort. She combed her fingers through my hair, making comforting shushing noises, until my breathing calmed and my arms sagged. Then she pulled away, not enough to scare me, but enough to actually drive the car without an accident happening. The car's ignition started up, and she began to slowly pull away from the population sign.

"I love you." I said faintly, my voice beginning to recover from the sore screaming.

"What?"

"I love you."

She stopped what she was doing, staring at me, and flipped the engine off. "Did you say what I thought you said?"

"I love you." I repeated, like a broken record player.

"I love you too." She replied, voice thick.

She leant forward and kissed the top of my head, slowly, slowly, like she was dealing with a wild injured animal. I clipped my seatbelt undone and wrapped my arms around her. "I'm sorry that happened."

"Don't ever be sorry for anything." She said immediately, almost snapped.

I peered at her, a little shocked, and she kissed the top of my head affectionately again. "That's my rule."

"I love you." I repeated dumbly, and snuggled against her, listening to her own heart beat.

And for whatever reason, it didn't terrify me half as much as my own heartbeat did.

_And my heart is singing, alleluia amen. _

**Spemily on the way, you patient reviewers. Hope you like it, I was quite proud of this chapter for no particular reason. I LOVE YOU ALL. YOUR REVIEWS MAKE MY DAY. So... yeah. Tell me what you liked or didn't like! Also, cookies for all those who do review. Yeah that's right. You like cookies. Chocolate chip ones. Not yuck raisin ones. Mmhmm. Okay. I'm rambling. PLEASE REVIEW! Xx (Btw about the last sentence. I'm not religious in any way, I just thought it sounded nice. Yeah. I'm weird. But we all know that already.)**


	14. August Rush

**Let's have three words to sum up this chapter= SPEMILY. SPEMILY. SPEMILY. I hope you guys like it, I'm considering it to be a climax of all these feelings I've been writing in. **

Emily didn't say a word the whole drive. She didn't say a word when they walked into the house, Spencer proclaiming her parents and Melissa were away yet again, and gently sat on the sofa in the living room, in the exact spot where Melissa would curl with pregnancy pains. Spencer considered telling her this as she rummaged around for food. Then she decided against it. There was no point.

She triumphantly emerged with two cups of Pot Noodles in her hand. "Sorry, Em, this is all we have. Parents didn't leave me shopping money."

Emily didn't move from the couch. When Spencer brought the Pot Noodles over to her, she accepted them gratefully, and quietly spooned them into her mouth. Spencer sat down beside her, switching the TV on. "What would you like to watch?"

"A movie." She said with slightly glazed eyes.

Spencer went through her DVDs, her face screwed in a look of intense concentration. It was important to her to pick exactly the right movie to watch. "Have you got _August Rush_?" Emily asked suddenly.

"Yeah." Spencer replied with a look of disgust. "Don't tell me you really want to watch that sappy..."

She turned around and the look in Emily's eyes said everything. She pouted, but knew the battle was over without having even begun. Spencer Hastings backing down from an argument was unheard of. And yet now she did it without any questions. "The Irish guy in here is hot anyhow." She tried to justify, almost embarassed of quickly she'd agreed with Emily's choice.

Emily raised her eyebrow, almost amused, but the smile Spencer had been hoping for failed to spread across her face. She sighed, popped the DVD in, and sat on the couch beside her.

The movie was long. And cheesy. And Spencer only noticed the first fifteen minutes. Which basically entailed of a sex scene between Hot Irish and Buxom Brunette on the roof of a building. _Of all the places to do it_, she thought scornfully to herself.

But her scorn faded abruptly as Emily yawned, face screwed up like a yowling tiger, and gently leant backwards on the couch, onto Spencer's lap. Spencer jolted with surprise, and then tried to disguise that she had. Emily blinked up at her slowly. "Thank you for letting me watch this movie. I love it." She whispered, as if she was disclosing a great secret.

Spencer's lips curved into a gentle smile. "That's okay." She replied. "It isn't too bad."

To her, it was one of the stupidest movies she'd ever seen, about true love and music and child-snatchers. But that was okay. She could put up with anything that Emily loved.

Before long, she realized she was snatching more glances at Emily than at the movie. Emily lay, tired and defenseless on her lap, utterly trusting. Her wide eyes were focused on the TV screen, patterns of cold light reflected on her moon of a face. As if she could tell Spencer was staring at her, she turned on her back, shuffling towards her. "Will you plait my hair?"

"Sure." Her hands curled around Emily's long, slightly frizzy now hair.

Emily closed her eyes, for no apparent reason, since the movie she so wanted to watch was on the screen. Spencer combed it away from her ears. "That tickles." Emily murmured.

She wouldn't let Spencer know but she appreciated the feeling of her cool hands on her neck. It was nice to have some human contact. She hadn't felt someone else's hands touching her in so long, it made goosebumps ride to her skin. Spencer noticed. "You cold?"

"No. Perfect." She replied.

She couldn't see Spencer's crooked smirk. But she knew it would be there. She knew exactly what she looked like, right now. Her eyes would be dark with intent focus, but the smile twitching across a corner of her face, lifting one side of her cheek, would mingle the two emotions. Serious and cheerful. Careful and happy. Focused and smiling.

Dark and light.

Her pale fingers would be spread across Emily's raven locks, contrasting beautifully, and her teeth would be sunk inside her lip as she focused. The smile would have faded by now, but the blush would still be colouring her cheeks. Her eyebrows would lower across her eyes, hooding them, so no one could see what she was thinking. It was all of these things she didn't realize what she was doing. But they made her who she was.

Emily twisted around again, just to check her suspicions. Spencer's face was the exact picture she had imagined. Blush still clinging to her face, eyebrow tilted in confusion, but teeth still biting the lip. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Emily replied.

Spencer blinked at her, and a slow smile spread across her face. "Em." She whispered, reaching for the girl's hand.

Emily hadn't realized. It wasn't a big thing to normal people, but to Spencer, it meant the world.

Emily had beamed at her.

She'd smiled. She'd grinned. The sun had looked like it was shining out of her face, her eyes had become twin fiery balls of golden light.

The world had become that notch brighter.

Emily took a second to register. This was a big deal. She'd absentmindedly grinned at Spencer, cause it felt so natural. It felt like something she just needed to do.

And now she was still smiling, for the first time since Maya died. She was beaming, and her hands were shaking, and she felt so weak and so happy at the same time. "Fuck you." She murmured. "Fuck you."

"Huh?"

"Not you." Em retorted, the smile still present on her face. "Not you, God no, God no. I love you."

She leant forward and buried her head in a confused Spencer's shoulder, hands lingering around the skinny girl's waist, shaking her head so happily. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"I love you." Spencer said, despite her confusion, and pulled her closer.

They lay there, simply basking in the glow of what had just happened. Spencer reached out to find Emily's chin, and tenderly chucked it. "You know something?"

"What?"

"_You _look nicer when you smile."

Emily blushed. Spencer laughed. "You should do it more often."

"I am now." She muttered, pulling her head away. And it was true, she was. "_You _know something?"

"What?"

"That was a little step."

Spencer beamed at her. "Yeah right, a little step. It was like the biggest step known to man. It was bigger than the Apollo step."

"Spencer, you need to stop quoting history facts and figures."

"Fine, I'll quote something else."

"I'm waiting." Em retorted, the smile still present on her face.

Spencer's eyebrow twitched, her usual teasing way. "Stars, hide your fires."

Emily shockingly, suddenly frowned. It was like a light switched off. Spencer actually looked upwards to see if the chandelier above them had blown a fuse. Emily bit her lip, and looked away. "Let light not see my black and deep desires." She finished.

"That's from Macbeth." Spencer reminded her. "And it was one of the first things you said to me, since Maya died."

Emily stayed still, her eyes averted. Spencer waited patiently. "The black and deep desires." Emily whispered.

"Yes."

"Things like that can consume you." She said simply, and huddled into Spencer's shoulder once again, closing her eyes.

"And smiles like that can make someone's whole day." Spencer replied.

Emily pulled her head away, and raised an eyebrow at her, but the joyous fire was still evident in her eyes. "Come on." Spencer teased. "Smile for me."

"I am not going to smile on command for you."

"You will..." Spencer said darkly, and reached her hand, tickling Emily's stomach gently.

Emily squealed so loudly, everyone in the neighbourhood must have heard her. She made an attempt to dive off the sofa, but Spencer caught her, still tickling her, and the two ended up plunging to the floor. Both of them were laughing hysterically, rolling around on the floor with haywire hair and insane grins. They looked like escapees from a mental asylum.

At least, that's what Toby thought.

**Toby POV**

It's not every day you walk in and find your girlfriend pinning another girl to the floor, gasping for breath with her hair sticking up on end. And when it is that kind of day, most people usually do what I did. Stare horrifiedly with no idea what to say.

Spencer peeked up from over the sofa, with a huge grin on her face, and it froze when she saw me. "Toby!" She said, surprised. "W-why are you here?"

I held up the bouquet of flowers, a sinking feeling in my gut. "I was coming to say I was sorry for snapping at you."

Her eyes went wide, but she hesitantly smiled. "Toby, that's so sweet. Honestly. I'm- I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

She blinked, and peered at me, obviously confused by my harsh tone. "For cheating on you while I was drunk with Wren."

"Good." I said icily. "Hi, Emily."

Emily said nothing. I didn't need her to. I knew exactly what was going on. I gave Spencer my hardest glare. She took a step back. "Toby, what's-"

"One of my friends told me something today." I said furiously. "He said, if you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they are truly yours." I threw the bouquet at her feet. "You were never truly mine, were you?"

She had the decency to look horrified. "What are you talking about?"

"I convinced myself that you and Wren were an accident. That you were drunk. That you never meant it to happen." I spat. "So I came back here. To talk to you. To say I loved you. And I come and find you... you bloody..."

Spencer genuinely looked like she had no idea what was going on. What a good actress. I knew that now. "Toby-"

"YOU WERE FUCKING KISSING HER?" I roared, anger getting it's way at last. "I BREAK UP WITH YOU, AND YOU DECIDED IT WOULD BE A GREAT IDEA TO GO AND-"

"Toby!" She shouted. "We were not-"

"Don't you deny it!" I fired back, taking a step backwards. "I saw you. That's it. You can't control yourself, can you? You always do what you feel like. It's all about Spencer, isn't it? You don't care what anyone else thinks, you-"

"WE WERE NOT GODDAMN KISSING!"

"I SAW YOU!" I practically screamed. "I HATE YOU!"

And with that, I slammed the door shut and steamed away, willing her not to come after me to try and prove me wrong yet again.

What luck. She didn't.

I hadn't even noticed I was crying again till I was halfway back to my house.

**Emily POV**

Spencer stood there, motionless. Her hand was on the doorknob, her eyes wide. "Toby..." She murmured.

I got up, and wrapped my arms around her, gently leading her back to the sofa, rubbing her back like the way she had rubbed mine. "It's okay." I whispered. "He's being a jerk."

"He is not!" She yelled. "He is not! He thinks I was cheating with you!"

"We both know that wasn't true."

She got up. "I have to explain to him. He's got it all-"

"Sit down." I said with a steely tone, pulling her back onto the couch.

Her eyebrows furrowed. She turned to me, scowling. "Why?"

"He needs time to cool off." I found myself saying, I didn't know how or why. "He will not listen to you if you approach him now. I know the guy as well as you do, Spence. He needs a little time by himself."

Spencer sighed, resigned, and I gave myself a big fat mental tick. "I think I know him better." She said weakly.

"Maybe." I smiled. "Seeing as he was never really my boyfriend. Shall we keep watching the movie?"

"Fine." She huffed. It took her a while, but her eyes focused onto mine in sudden realization. "You just smiled again."

"I do it when I'm happy. I can't help it."

"You're happy?" Spencer asked, her eyes wide in such shock it was adorable.

"Yes." I replied, and grabbed a blanket from the side of the couch. "Now shut up so we can watch this movie. I love the ending."

She sighed resignedly, and let me pull the blanket over her. I rested my head on her lap again, and my eyes returned to the screen. I sighed as soon as I saw little August in his tuxedo, with fluffy hair and confident smile, conducting the orchestra. "I want a kid like that."

"Eh?"

"Are you actually watching?"

"Yes." Spence retorted. "Yes, yes I am."

"Why's he called August Rush?"

"He's called August Rush? I thought his name was-"

"Spence!"

"Okay." She admitted. "I wasn't watching. I'm sorry."

"Spencer Hastings admitting she's sorry? The world must be ending."

Instead of elbowing me and telling me to shut up, she smiled at me shyly. "You sound just like your old self."

"I feel like my old self." I said, with an honesty that made my heart burn. "I feel better."

"Without any pills. I knew you could."

"You knew when no one else did." I smiled, though my eyes were threatening to pour over the emotion of that statement. "So. Thanks for being amazing."

She blushed. I knew, even though my head was turned away to catch the last few minutes of the movie. _When you know someone inside and out, and you still like them? What is that called? There's a word for it._

The raven floated to mind. I looked up, and looked around warily. There was no sign of it. "What're you looking for?" Spencer asked.

"Nothing." I replied, and smiled at her again. "I feel happy."

"I'm so glad." She smiled back.

There was a pause as we stared at each other, grinning like idiots, because it felt so good to grin. It felt so good to laugh and smile like all the normal people in the world. The movie ended, yet I didn't care anymore. The credits played. A song I recognized hummed into life, guitar strings plucked raspily, bass deep and low.

_Take cover, signs don't show_

_You drove me off the road, _

"Ellie Goulding- Your Biggest Mistake." I correctly named it.

Spencer grinned. "I actually like this song though."

"What a miracle." I said drily.

_But you let go,_

_Cause your hope is gone_

Those lyrics struck deep. I let go of my friends. Cause my hope was gone. I had no idea what Hanna or Aria were doing right now. Because I'd let go of them, thinking I'd never beat depression. Had I bet it now?

_And every question fades away, _

_It's a shame you don't know what you're running from_

I didn't know what I was running from. I thought it was a raven. Spencer thought it was a part of me. My mom thought it was a disease. Could it be all?

_Would your bones have to break and your lights turn off?_

_Would it take the end of time to hear your heat's false start?_

Spencer was humming. I grinned at her. "You really like it."

"I do."

_You know this is your biggest mistake, _

_What a waste, what a waste, what a waste_

The music abruptly cut off. We blinked at each other, confused. The chandelier above us dimmed, then blackened. Now we couldn't see each others faces. "Spencer?" I asked, my voice rising, a little scared.

"Right here, babe." She said quickly, patting my arm. "Was that your arm?"

"Yes." I retorted indignantly.

"Oh. Thank god."

"What did you think it was?"

"Your boob." She whispered, embarassed.

I chuckled. "I'd be telling you to get your hands off the merchandise, right about now."

"Merchandise?" She said, scandalized. "You call your boobs merchandise?"

"No, Spencer, it's a joke."

"Oh. At least, that's not what Toby thinks."

"Stop thinking about him. It's not gonna do you any good."

"Mmmph." She replied. "We should probably find some candles."

"We should." I agreed.

Neither of us moved. I moved to rap her nose scoldingly. But what I touched wasn't her nose. "Em?"

"Yeah."

"That _was _my boob."

"Uh-oh."

We laughed together, in the dark, like complete idiots. Usually, though I'd never admit it to anyone, I'm scared of the dark. I hate feeling like I can't see where I'm going, hate knowing anything could sneak up on me. "Power cut." I said out loud.

"No duh." She replied sarcastically, and I smiled.

"In case you can't see, I'm smiling."

"Nice." She said huskily, and tried to move off me.

I sat up at the same time, and our noses bumped into each other. We laughed. "That hurt." I said sulkily.

"Well, I'm sorry." Spencer teased. "I'll try make it better."

"How?" I asked plaintivitely.

I felt pressure, a soft force against my possibly bruised nose, a damp gentle cushion. Spencer pulled away, taking a breath. "What did you just do?" I hissed.

"Kissed it better." She said with a smirk.

I couldn't see there. But I knew the smirk was there. "You didn't have to do that." I retorted.

"But I did." Spencer had the tone of voice where she believed every decision was a right one.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "I rolled my eyes."

"I shrugged."

"I shook my head."

"I smiled."

"You're annoying."

"I smiled."

"I know." I found myself saying.

_What's it called when you know every little thing someone does, every little expression on their face?  
><em>

**Spencer POV**

_What's it called when you're so protective of only one person, no matter how they will never be in danger, so long as you're around?_

**Emily POV**

_What's it called when you know someone will always be there for you no matter what, no matter how many times you push them away?_

**Spencer POV**

_What's it called when your boyfriend walks away from you, and all you can think about is the girl in the dark?_

**Emily POV**

_What's it called when you can't even think about the person you once loved so long as she's next to you?_

**Spencer POV**

_What's it called when someone makes your every day a brighter one, even if they are as dark as they will ever be?_

**Emily POV**

_What's it called when someone makes your stomach whirl when they kiss your nose?_

**Spencer POV**

_What's it called when you'll literally do anything for your best friend?_

"You know, this could be your biggest mistake." Emily sang under her breath.

Spencer smiled in the dark. "What a waste, what a waste, what a waste." She murmured back.

"And all of the things you never explained."

"Well you know this is your biggest mistake."

Both were thinking the exact same thing. Fearing of the biggest mistake they could ever make.

Spencer didn't know the rules. She was shy, wary. "Toby really thinks he saw us kissing." She said, a tone of fake disbelief.

"Well, you were kind of on top of me tickling me." Emily replied, shrugging.

"I'd have to be a bit closer to be kissing you!"

"How close?"

"Close." Spencer muttered, not willing to go there.

Or not willing to make the first move.

Emily paused, actually thinking about how close they had been. "We were about this close." She demonstrated, shuffling nearer to Spencer. "Except I was lying down."

Gentle hands took her shoulders and maneouvered them back. "Yeah, and I was on top, like this." Spencer showed, her eyebrows furrowed. "But he didn't see our lips touch. At all."

"Yeah, but your hair was messy and you look flustered. It looked for all the world like you had just finished making out with me, to him."

"Probably part of his fantasies." Spencer grumbled.

Emily screwed up her face. "Let's _not _think about Toby's fantasies right now, shall we?"

"What shall we think about, then?" Spencer retorted.

"Whatever you want to think about." Emily whispered.

Spencer opened her mouth, and just like that, the lights came back on. August Rush blared back into life. And they suddenly saw under the light how close they really were. Practically on top of each other.

"Whoa." Emily said quickly, and stared up at Spencer, who calmly said "Whoa." in reply. "Us being this close? Would it really look like we were kissing?"

"You are thinking too much about this." Emily replied, and let her body relax. "So when are you going to correct him, and inform him we weren't?"

"Tomorrow." Spencer said determinedly. "Tomorrow."

"First thing?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then, we'd better move. He'd probably choke if he saw us together like this."

"Would he?" Spencer asked innocently. "Would he choke if he did this?"

She'd meant to go for the cheek. It was a simple harmless joke. The sort they used to have all the time. But Emily had moved her head, and the timing had been awful, and everything had gone so ridiculously haywire she couldn't fight her way out of it.

She made her biggest mistake.

**I know you guys have wanted this chapter for a long time... I hope it's satisfactory. Took me a whole afternoon! Now I should probably study for the massive Spanish test I have. And write my History essay. And research Arabic for this role I have in Drama. Ah, never mind. Fanfiction is always more fun. **

**Just a big thank you to all my lovely reviewers! You guys actually rock. All you Spemily lovers finally got what you deserved... ;) what's going to happen? And who else is happy about Emily's smile! It's like unicorns and rainbows and butterflies soaring into their air 3 yeah, I'll stop now. Please review!**

**What do you think Spencer did, btw? ;) **


	15. Maybe You Shouldn't Remember

**Emily POV**

Spencer's fist slammed into my nose brutally, squashing it beneath her fingers. My entire face exploded into pain, my nose seeming to catch on fire. I tore myself away from her, cradling my face and yelling agonizedly. She leaped towards me, throwing a protective arm around me. "Em, I'm so sorry!" She said quickly, staring at me in horror. "I didn't mean to do that!"

"Oh my God!" was all I could manage. The pain was blistering. "I think you've broken my nose!"

Spencer swore loudly, jumped off the sofa and practically sprinted towards her fridge. I moaned pitifully, inhaling the disgusting metallic stench of blood. "Why would you do that?"

"I didn't mean to!" She shouted from across the room. "I meant it gentler, but you moved your face closer and the timing was all wrong and-"

"I'm bleeding!" I screamed, staring at the red smeared across my fingers from where I had gently dabbed my lips.

Spencer responded with loud clattering noises as she desperately dug ice out from the freezer and dropped the cubes into a cloth bag. I could feel the blood now dribbling down across my lips, and tried to wipe it away. The amount of it both surprised and scared me. "Hold your head back." Spencer instructed, and jammed the tied bag on top of my nose.

"Argh, it hurts." I growled, muffled by the bag. "I think it's broken."

She gingerly moved the icebag, and peered anxiously at it. "I can't tell right now. We have to wait for the swelling to go down."

I groaned loudly and she sighed. "I'm so sorry, Em."

"Issokaay." I mumbled. "Get some tissues."

She stood up, and I fixed her with an evil glare as a last resort. "Sometimes, Spencer, you suck."

"This is one of those times?"

"Pretty much."

"That's gratifying." She replied, and grabbed tissues out of the box, preparing to wipe the blood which was now drizzling down my chin, when her phone rang loudly.

She picked it up with an annoyed sigh, handing the tissues to me. "Hello, Spencer Hastings here."

"_Do you seriously have to answer the phone like that, Spence? We know who you are. If we didn't, we wouldn't call your mobile number, would we?"_

"Hi, Hanna."

"_Hello Spencer Hastings. How are you today Spencer Hastings?"_

"Fine. Why the call?"

"_How are you, Emily?"_

I blinked, confused. Spencer's eyebrows screwed up. "How did you know-"

"_I guessed. Seeing as how usually round this time you like to respond to my messages, I guessed you had more urgent issues."_

Spencer sent me a questioning look, tilting an eyebrow. I leaned forward, clutching the tissues to my nose and grabbing the phone. "Hello, Hanna."

"_Em. Nice to hear from you."_

"I would say the same, but the fact it's nice to hear from you because you haven't talked to me for the past month stings a little."

Spencer's eyes flashed and she grabbed the phone back. I scowled at her. "_Maybe I haven't talked because I haven't known what to say." _Hanna muttered down the phone.

"A statement over how you're there for me would have been nice. Oh, wait, that's right. You weren't there."

Spencer exhaled slowly through her teeth, and I swore I could hear Hanna do the exact same. It seemed to be most people's response to me now. "Emily." Spencer said pointedly.

"Yes Spencer?" I trilled, as fake and sweetly as I could manage.

"_You sound like a Disney bird with hyperactivity issues." _Hanna scoffed in her usual sarcastic way.

"Better than sounding like my usual self." I snapped. "You'd prefer me to sound like this. Because you don't want to hear the real me, cause the real me is suffering from a crushing disease that I was never able to handle."

There was utter silence in the room. Spencer had gone stock-still. So I decided to continue. "Oh no, I don't solely blame you, Hanna. Everyone feels the same. They feel so much more comfortable when I paint on a smile. But when I let the mask slip, no one wants to know. Funny, right?"

"_Emily, I hope this isn't an issue of me not caring. Cause I care, so much."_

"I do know you care." I snarled. "But obviously you don't care enough. Otherwise maybe you would have been there for me."

Hanna was actually wordless for once. I smiled in grim satisfaction and pulled the bloodsoaked tissues away from my nose. It must have been a frightening sight, because Spencer paled, and said "I'll call you back." to Hanna, before flicking her phone off.

She took the tissues from me, and sighed. "That wasn't exactly nice."

"I'm not exactly nice."

"Let me correct you. The disease isn't exactly nice."

I stared at her. It was like all the walls I'd hastily built to allow me to snap at Hanna came crashing down with her quietly intelligent gaze. Somehow she knew. I shuddered, and looked away. "The disease is a part of me. It's always been a part of me."

"I won't deny that." Spencer said carefully, chucking the tissues into the bin. "You do have a dark side. But the disease, the side where the dark takes over, that isn't you."

I refused to look at her, until she handed me a fresh wad of tissues. "I've put antiseptic cream on this lot. It should help."

"How bad is it?"

"Come to the mirror and see."

I stood up and walked across, blinking wearily. My nose was red and swollen, and blood was still smeared around my lips and chin in a grotesque kind of lipstick, but it wasn't as bad as I had expected. I sighed frustratedly, and wiped away until it all had gone. Suddenly plagued by a worry, I whipped around to see Spencer watching me carefully. "I can't go to Texas." I muttered.

"I don't want you to go. And I don't know whether it would be good for you."

"It wouldn't be. I'd be locked in my room, completely isolated, with technicians coming round every two hours to come and check on my progress, and I could do nothing, I'd have no one-"

I stopped myself, suddenly aware of what I had said. Spencer walked over to me and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I stared up at her. "I'd have no one." I whispered.

"You will always have me. And you know that." Spencer replied in her usual blunt way.

"Not in Texas. Unless you feel like convincing your parents to move states would be a fantastic idea."

"Seeing as how I barely talk to any of them now, that would be a slight problem."

I shrugged, and let out a heartfelt sigh. "Sometimes I wish what Maya would want me to do." I admitted.

"She'd want you to be happy." She said instantaneously. "She'd want you to do whatever felt right. Whatever the cost."

"What feels right..." I dryly laughed.

Nothing felt right. Everything in my life was broken, and shaken and torn to pieces by what had happened. My world had flipped over and over until I was left cowering in the wreckage, a bruised shell of what I used to be. My skin was made up of smashed china, my eyes dark pools that had seen too much to go back. My mind I couldn't even comment on. It was dark and fathomless, and it was agonizing to live in.

"Exactly." Spencer nodded. "Listen. I bet she's up there right now, looking down at you."

"Up where?"

"Heaven. Paradise. Where we go when we die, all of that shizz. The stars."

"What is she doing?"

"Whatever she wants to do."

I blushed at the childish question and bobbed my head, and Spencer smiled at me. "She always did, right?"

"Right." I mumbled. "Right."

There was an awkward pause. Spencer stood up, and offered me her hand. "Do you want to see?"

"See what?"

"Outside." She motioned with her other hand. "It's a clear sky."

I looked hesitant. She pulled me gently towards her. "Come on. It'll make you feel way better."

I let her lead me outside, onto the grass which stuck to my bare feet, onto cold smooth stone, onto coarse lined wooden boards. My eyes were on the sky the whole time. Stars had appeared in the cavernous blackness, twinkling like tiny fairy lights. The moon hung proudly above, the centrepiece of a canvas, the sphere apple of humanity's eye. It was a warm night, yet I still clung to Spencer.

She seemed lost in thought, gesturing above her. "Maya's right up there. See? In fact... She's probably that one."

I looked to where she was pointing. High up above, one star shone next to the others, slightly askew, like it was tossed away from the other stars. But it still shone just as beautifully, a round blob of light in the sky. I looked at it, a heavy feeling in my heart. "She's looking at us now?"

"I bet she is. She's sitting, wondering what you're going to do next."

I laughed bitterly, a scornful noise. "She wants to know what I'm going to do?"

"Yeah. She would do. She just wants you to be happy."

"Happy?"

"Yes, Emily." Spencer said softly, turning to me, her eyes deep and dark. "She wants you to do whatever would make you happy. Because she's not in your life anymore."

I swallowed deeply, my eyes never leaving the star, even though I felt Spencer's eyes trace my face briskly, snatching her gaze away. "What makes me happy? Are you so sure she wants that?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

"Because she misses me."

"I bet she does. But there's nothing she can do anymore. She loves you. She'd love to see you happy. "

She shuffled closer to me, and whispered the next few words into my ear. "It would kill her to see you doing this to yourself. You know that."

I turned to her slowly, sliding a hand under her chin. "When you say, what makes me happy." I muttered. "What do you mean?"

"Whatever you want to do, to be happy."

I sighed, long and heartfelt, and made up my mind. Closing my eyes, I both hated myself and loved the feeling. I leaned forward slowly, cautiously, giving her every chance to back away.

But she never did. She never would. She didn't back off as my lips brushed against hers, gentle, careful, but intoxicating. She didn't back away as I leaned into her, completely bewildered yet utterly sure of my actions. She was kissing me back. She kissed my cheeks, my eyes, my nose, my mouth. She pushed back into me with an intensity that frightened me, intermingled with desire to have her lips on mine. I felt her skinny arms wrapping around my back, and smiled against the touch.

And then she plunged the knife deep into my back, pulling away with a fearful grin to see her handiwork.

I opened my eyes. Light flashed into them, and my hands tightened on the surface below me, gasping for air. I rolled onto my side instantly, curling into a defensive ball, trying to work my vocal chords enough to scream in terror, when I realized I was lying in Spencer's living room, and she was nowhere to be seen.

_Just a dream. It was just a dream. Calm down_.

I sat up, massaging sleep from my eyes, shuddering at the feeling of the cold knife opening paths of fire into my skin. I swore my back still throbbed with the imagined cut. Spencer had obviously tucked me in on her leather sofa with a woollen blanket. I'd fallen asleep at some point or another.

She walked in just at that moment, her hair messy, wrapped in a huge fluffy dressing gown. "Morning." She said brightly, cradling her cup of coffee. "How you feeling?"

"I've felt better." I shrugged.

A smirk twisted the side of her face. "Like you felt last night?"

I blinked, confused, and she chuckled. "Ooh, you're blushing and all."

I tried to smile, completely unsure of what she meant. "Uh, yeah. So... um, why am I on the sofa?"

"You fell asleep there, idiot. I tried to wake you but you were too far gone."

"Ah. Right."

Spencer smiled, and sat down beside me, affectionately ruffling my hair. I almost shyed away from it. "You were pretty damn wasted, but so was I. Can't believe you haven't got a hangover yet."

"We were drinking?" I spluttered.

"Okay, so you were _that _kind of drunk."

"I... I guess, yeah." I muttered, massaging my head, shocked at my memory.

"Hah. Maybe it's better you forgot." Spencer teased, a smile in her voice.

She had me baited. I turned to her, raising my eyebrows. "Why? Why would it be better if-"

And this time I felt her lips against mine for real, dry and damp and strong, pushing into mine, her hands wrapped around the back of my head.

And it was all I could do not to gasp.

**SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I have so much homework it's actually not funny. Right, you guys got your Spemily ;) please, again, review! I love you all! xxxxxxxxxxxxxx**


	16. Emali?

Spencer pulled away, sensing Emily's hesitation, smiling dangerously at her again. "Perhaps that helped you remember?" She murmured huskily.

Emily's mouth hung open, and Spencer gently closed it, two fingers propped underneath her chin. "You still smell like whisky." She informed her gently, jokingly.

"What, the _hell_, did we do last night?" Emily spluttered, irate.

Spencer backed up slightly. Her hand left Emily's chin. "Are you joking, right now?"

"No!"

"You actually can't remember?"

"Yes!"

Dread began to claw at Spencer's gut. "Oh..." She murmured. "Okay then. Okay."

"What did we do?" Emily demanded.

"Ummm..." Spencer had no idea how to explain the drunken events, blazed into her memory with a delirious smile.

But from the beginning was always a good start.

"Well. You were an asshole to Hanna."

"Yes?" Emily said impatiently.

"Do you remember that?"

"Yep. And then you talked to me about Maya."

Spencer blinked, and looked quizzically at her. "No?"

Emily frowned. "Yes, you did. You talked to me about her, then we went to look at the stars, and then-"

"Emily, that didn't happen. Was that a dream?"

Emily groaned frustratedly and smacked her head. "God. It must have been. That means I don't remember anything past the conversation with Hanna."

"Well, that makes sense. Cause that was round about the time we got drinking."

Emily looked at her to go on. "Right." Spencer said to affirm. "You suggested it. We were bored, alone, nothing else to do. It didn't seem like a bad idea."

"_Drinking games." Emily said firmly. "They're the best."_

_Spencer hadn't managed to find any shot glasses, and was busy pouring the only thing in her house- whiskey- into two tall tumblers. "We can't exactly play drinking games with this lot. It's lethal."_

"_Lethal? Sounds like my kind of drink. I'll take two."_

"_I'm having one, you're having one. That's enough to get us comfortably drunk. It only takes one shot of whiskey to work as anasthesia."_

_Emily scowled like a baby, pouting, and downed her glass with a smirk as Spencer handed it to her. "God, you're so macho about drinking." Spencer tutted. "Everything else, feminine as can be, but when it comes to drinking, you transform into this big manly doofus."_

_Emily giggled, setting the glass down. "I like knowing I can do some things better than anything else." She drawled. "Like a certain someone."_

"_Can't think who you're talking of." Spencer said breezily, taking a sip of whiskey and wincing. "Ugh. This stuff burns."_

"_You get used to it. It's kind of comforting after a while."_

_Spencer made a face and took another sip, battling to keep it down. It felt like molten lava slipping down her throat, scratching and burning. "So." She said quietly, drumming fingers on table. "I think you've offended Hanna."_

"_Eh." Emily said dismissively, rollig her eyes over the top of the glass. "She offends me every day by never talking to me. But that's K cool, right?"_

"_No, it isn't. And she should realize it isn't."_

"_She has. Too late to change it." Emily shrugged it off, standing up and glugging down the whiskey like it was water. Spencer frowned, but said nothing. "Mmm. Good stuff."_

"_My dad's. One of the many things he's left in this damn house."_

"_Like Jason? Talked to him lately?"_

"_Too awkward. If I try to even halfway mention anything to him, he cuts it off with a dry comment either about my cheating scumbag of a Dad, or the cheating scumbags we're both going to turn into, thanks to his lovely genes."_

_Emily peered at her. "You don't have your dad's genes in your looks. Otherwise you'd be balding and constantly look at everyone with a frowny face."_

_Spencer sniggered. "Me balding and with wrinkle lines. Hawwwwt."_

"_Definitely." Emily laughed. "Whereas Jason. I can see premature wrinkle lines everytime he does that brooding pout."_

"_Hey, that's a Hastings pout. Don't insult it." Spencer warned jokingly. "Many generations have gone into improving that pout."_

"_A Hastings pout? You never pout."_

"_I'm never drunk enough." Spencer said cheekily, sticking her tongue out. _

"_Well, let's change that tonight." Emily said brightly. "Cheers."_

"_Cheers to what?"_

"_To being two royally screwed up people. What else?"_

_Spencer shrugged, and leant forward to clink her glass, trying not to choke on the bitter whiskey, knowing Em was watching her with a competitive fire in her eyes. The alcohol was beginning to surge through her body, loosening her limbs and relaxing her voice. "Speaking of screwed, I have some homework I really _should _have done today-"_

"_Relax." Emily retorted with an iron rod to her voice, stepping over to where Spencer was. "Seriously. Can you forget your perfection for just one second and live for the moment?"_

_Spencer paused, staring at Emily as she stepped closer, raising her eyebrows at her. "You look so much prettier when you do." She remarked casually. _

_Spencer's eyes flickered downwards immediately, and a blush rose to her cheeks. She bit down hard on her lip, pretending the comment hadn't made everything flutter just for a second inside of her. "You are wasted already." She muttered, diverting the attention._

"_Everything is more fun this way." Emily smiled, twirling away. "What about you? Still a boring old sober?"_

"_Better than a boring old drunk." Spencer growled jokingly. _

_Emily turned to her, a hand on her hip. "What's that? You think I'm boring?"_

"_So far, yes. Entertain me. Let's see the stunning prowess of your conversation while you're drunk."_

"_Bite me, Jane Bond." Emily responded, and collapsed backwards onto the sofa with a satisfied grin. _

"_Only because you requested."_

_Spencer crossed the room threateningly, and Emily ducked away, giggling. "No biting, thanks. Although, that isn't really what Toby would say..."_

"_Ooh, but you're mean when you're drunk."_

"_Just honest. Honesty is the best policy." She smirked. _

"_You and I both know we are the living exceptions to that rule." Spencer groaned, massaging her head. _

"_Come sit down." Emily demanded, pulling on her arm like an angry toddler. "And have a drink. You need to stop thinking."_

"_I believe it's called death." _

"_Ooh, but you're dark when you're drunk." Emily mimicked. "Loosen up, Porcelain."_

"_Porcelain? You have an unlimited amount of words at your disposal, and you call me porcelain. D- for creativity."_

_Emily pouted. "Pweathe, Mrth Hathtingth, my mommy will be tho mad if I get a D-minuth!" She lisped. _

"_Well, you can improve your grade by thinking of a better insult for me."_

"_It wasn't an insult, it was a nickname. Sherlock Hastings just isn't doing it for me anymore."_

_Spencer sighed, and took a long drag from the whisky, eventually finishing the glass. "Right." She said, ever the business woman, wiping the dregs from her mouth. "Now we kick back and feel the pleasant effects in the morning."_

_Emily smiled into air, and ruffled Spencer's hair up. Spencer tried to bat her away, but it was too late- half her curls had frizzed up. "Emily." She moaned, feverishly trying to pat it back down. "Why did you feel the need to do that?"_

"_It's an affectionate gesture. That's why I felt the need. Besides, you look better like that."_

"_What? Like a rabid hobo?"_

"_Not so much rabid hobo as electrocuted hobo." Emily giggled, patting Spencer's hair back down herself. _

"_Fine. So I look better electrocuted? What are you trying to say?"_

"_I'm saying I love you no matter what you look like." Emily said thoughtfully, grabbing onto Spencer's hands as she attempted to brush them through her hair. _

_Spencer paused. Everything seemed to stop and fade out around her. It was just her and Emily, and nothing else. She coughed, once, trying to breath gently through a blocked nose. Her heart hammered. "Y-you love me?"_

"_Of course." Emily smiled, like it meant nothing. Spencer's shocked face amused her. "What, didn't you know?"_

_She knew exactly what Spencer thought she meant. Despite the haze settling in her head, and her sluggish reactions to everything, she knew exactly what she thought she meant. She wanted to see Spencer's reaction. It would be funny, she told herself. Funny when Spencer realized she was joking. _

_Funny when Emily realized she was eerily mimicking Alison DiLaurentis. _

_An old rhyme kept repeating through her head. She couldn't figure out why, but it wouldn't ever shut up. She tried to speak, tried to cut across her own thoughts, but the voice in her head kept speaking in the cruelly bitter words of the raven. _

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

_She wouldn't be fooled again. Now she could be the trickster. _

_Part of her rejected the idea. It was the part of Emily that still wanted to maintain the bubbly persona, to laugh and smile and not toy with people. It wasn't like her to do such things as to play with people's hearts for her own amusement. She should be ashamed. _

_But then again, it wasn't like her to fall victim to a disease which sucked the life out of you. _

_Spencer's face had completely frozen over. "Do you mean in the way I am thinking of?"_

"_Depends which way you are thinking of." Emily said playfully. _

"_Like... love love. Not in the way everyone says it- ending their texts with "luv ya xoxo" or, "you're my best friend, I love you!". Like in, in, in the way that they make movies about."_

"_Hmmm." Emily hummed, pretending to ignore Spencer's eyes, which were so wide they looked like they could fall out of their sockets in any second. She leaned in a bit closer. "Which would you prefer?" She whispered. _

_Spencer was struggling. Floundering. She desperately wanted to take control of the situation. But she couldn't see how, when she felt so giddy and perfectly drunk. "Don't know." She tried to say calmly. "Which one is it?"_

"_Uh-uh." Emily scolded. "I don't kiss... until you tell."_

_She had done it now. Spencer flushed a bright colour, her eyes flickering as she tried to look somewhere, anywhere, other than Emily. "We're both ridiculously drunk." She said, a little defensively. "We need to get some sleep."_

"_Only because you requested." Emily did a perfect impression of her, low shaky voice and all, before snuggling down under the covers with a smirk. _

_Spencer frowned. She _really _didn't like how Emily was so in control of the situation. Maybe it was time to try and snatch that control back. "Hey, wait a minute." She said bossily. "You didn't tell me what you meant."_

"_Oh, so you want to know?"_

"_Of course." She growled. "Tell me."_

_Emily sat up now, close enough to Spencer that their foreheads were only a short distance apart. "I've told you." She mumbled in mock-irritation. "I don't kiss until you tell. Which way would you prefer?"_

"_I'm not going to answer that." Spencer fired back. "I hope you have a nice sleep."_

_With that, she walked over to the other couch, and threw herself down with a feigned tired moan. Emily rolled her eyes. "Loooove youuuu." She crooned mockingly._

_Spencer retorted with a curse word, then snuggled down and closed her eyes. She was irritated, her ego having taken a bruising from Emily's taunts. Emily lay awake, feeling victorious and crappy at the same time. Teasing was never as much fun as Alison had made it seem. Ten minutes later, she sat up. "Spencer?" She whispered. "You awake?"_

"_No." Came the reply. _

_Emily chuckled, standing up, and crossed over to the couch where Spencer lay. "You cold?"_

"_No." She said again. _

"_I'm freezing." _

_No reply. Emily sat on her knees beside the couch, seeing Spencer's pale face in a mess of tangled hair. Spencer groaned and turned towards her. "What do you want?"_

"_I want to know what you want to know."_

_Spencer sat up, shaking her head. "I want to know if you love me."_

"_Good. Then I can tell you that quite simply."_

"_Go right on ahead." _

"_Yes." Emily said. _

_As easily as she was agreeing to a statement in class. As comfortably as she was talking to her mom or dad. As freely as she was just chatting to a friend. Not admitting a heartfelt statement._

_But Spencer never noticed the difference, and when Emily's lips found hers, she didn't seem to know anything anymore. Up was down. Down was up._

_Wrong was right. _

"That's all." Spencer muttered to her clasped hands. "That's all."

Emily's eyes were dark and furious. She stared into space for a long moment, her shoulders rising with the intake of quick breath. Then she stood, grabbing her bag from the kitchen bench quickly and marching to the door. "I have to go." She spat, hooking the bag over her shoulder.

Spencer said nothing. She watched the door slam mournfully, and cradled her aching head in her hands. She leant slowly against the sofa, her mind whirling.

_How does one manage to beautifully screw up two relationships in one night?_

**PLEASE REVIEW! :D xx**


	17. She's Your Beautiful Burnout

Emily marched along the street, her mind awhirl, her face flat with masked emotion. She rubbed her head every five minutes, trying to figure out what the hell she could do to fix this.

The answer kept replaying in her head, over, and over, and over again.

_Nothing. Nothing. There is nothing you can do._

She knew it must have happened, because her T-shirt stunk of whiskey, and her head was thumping from an obvious hangover. Not that it was like Spencer to lie. At least, not to her. Never to her.

She kept trying to figure out why she had to storm away. Maya was on her mind, as ever. She never really left.

She couldn't believe she'd kissed her. And in such a malicious way, as well, just toying with her, just wanting to see if Spencer would kiss her back.

Just like something Ali would do.

_Where's Ali now? Is she laughing? Is she smirking at her greatest prodigy, her favourite? _

_Is she with Maya? Is Maya beating her up like she always pledged to? _

_Would they get along? Would they like each other? Up there?_

The dream, that was plaguing her too. She knew she'd kissed Spencer to mess with her. So then why did she dream it was Spencer who was the one in control? Spencer the one who'd inserted the knife into her back? Oh God, why?

She couldn't believe she'd done it, but she'd been drunk out of her mind, and she had. She'd found false confidence within the bottom of a bottle. And for a while, she'd been smug. Happy she'd taken control of the control freak. Surprised at how easy it had been. She knew she'd drifted off to sleep with a stupid grin on her face.

But she'd woken up, and as soon as Spencer had told her, she'd felt like the worst person in the world after. Maya wouldn't want her to be doing this. It was like an open betrayal, a punch in bruised flesh, tearing open a cut which had never really healed.

_Maya wants you to be happy._

What should I do to achieve happiness, Maya? Should I screw, both literally and figuratively, my best friend? Should I kill myself to be with you?

What should I do?

She was walking past a soccer field now, she dully realized, due to the amount of shouting from her right. She turned to face it- an all girls team. Half of her mouth lifted in a smirk. Usually, she'd drift around in a subtle way, pretending to be looking for something, when in fact she'd be perving on all the cute girls. But today just didn't seem right.

She was about to turn away, and head somewhere- where? She didn't know. But a coach loudly barked an order from the sidelines, and a Hispanic looking girl groaned loudly as she marched off. "Son of a bitch." She growled under her breath. "You'd screw your own mother for a Big Mac. _Hijo de la puta, mierda-"_

"By the look of him, he needs to cut down on the Big Macs." Emily said quickly, raising an eyebrow. "So he's been doing a lot of screwing with his mother. Of course, she's the only one that'd want him."

She froze, and turned to her, frowning. For one moment Emily thought she'd horribly misinterpreted everything, and strived to find an excuse so she could leave. But the Hispanic girl relaxed, and her face cracked open in a smile. "That's a face only a mother could love."

Emily laughed softly, and the Hispanic girl joined in, rolling her shoulders with a slightly pained expression. "Bastard pulls me off in the 30th minute. I was just warming up."

"Who's he subbed you with?"

"His niece." The two exchanged a knowing look.

"More and more intriguing. I'm Emily, by the way. Emily Fields."

A flicker of something crossed the girl's face- (surprise? Recognition?) before she held her hand out. "Taylor Lopez."

"Nice to meet you." Emily said politely.

Taylor looked a little taken aback and Emily realized how weird she was being, almost impersonating Spencer. She shook herself a little, and sidled up to Taylor. "Taylor Lopez, huh? Haven't seen you around before."

"Just moved here from Mexico."

"Oh, right. What school you going to?"

"Rosewood High."

"Oh!" Emily said, interested now. "Oh, right. I suppose you might know my friends."

A small smile spread across Taylor's face but she noticeably clamped it down. "Who're your friends?"

"Spencer Hastings, uh... yeah." Emily said quietly, feeling her stomach twist at her betrayal. "Spencer."

Taylor nodded. "Yeah, I know Spencer. She invited me to come and sit with Hanna Marin, Aria Montgomery and her."

"Oh?" Was all Emily could say, again.

_Spencer hadn't told me about this. And we never invited anyone to sit with us. We were kind of an exclusive group. _

_Am I... Am I being replaced? Is Spencer trying to replace me with her?Just cause I'm not at school any more doesn't mean..._

A bitter surge of jealousy crawled through her, and she swallowed it down, looking at the ground. "Uh, did you accept?"

"Yeah." Taylor smiled, her eyes glinting. "We all get so well along, you know. They're pretty much the only girls I actually know really well in that school, actually."

"Cool." Emily managed, staring out at the game, feeling a muscle in her jaw clench. She desperately wanted to know something, despite how her gut was plummeting with every word that dripped out of Taylor's poisonous little mouth. "Uh, did they... did they say anything about me?"

Taylor inhaled slowly and softly, then turned to Emily. "Spencer never shuts up about you."

"O-oh, really?"

"Yeah. Hanna and Aria barely say anything, but Spencer? Seriously, the girl never stops. If I'm not hearing about your skill at swimming, I'm hearing about how you have an allergy to pineapple. If I'm not hearing about that, I'm hearing about how you're the only one who appreciates her nerdy quotes. If I'm not hearing about that, it's you and some kind of fetish with zombies. And if it's not that..."

She took a little step closer, uncomfortably so, but Emily didn't step away, staring awkwardly down at her. "She's talking about how beautiful you are." She whispered. "And I can see why."

Emily flushed. A very deep, bright scarlet. "Uhrm. She honestly says that?"

Taylor stepped away, and thankfully, for Emily, all the air flushed back into the world. "Told you, the girl never shuts up." She said nonchalantly, staring at the game again.

"Well." Emily murmured. "Okay."

"Mmmm." Taylor hummed, tapping her soccer boot against the floor. "Someone's got a crush."

"That's none of your business." Emily snapped.

Taylor gave Emily a critical glance, raising an eyebrow. Emily looked down again. "Sorry." She muttered. "I have to go."

"_Adios." _Taylor said brusquely, stepping forward and acting generally like Emily was no longer there.

Emily paused, blinked, but walked away, with no idea in her head about where she was going next.

She didn't see Taylor grin sinisterly, and pull out the phone from her pocket.

She didn't know Taylor was sending a text to her worst enemy.

She didn't know that it said _mission accomplished_.

**Spencer POV**

I knew it'd been a bad idea from the start.

But here I was, blowing dust away, staring at the crumpled box on a lonely morning, having no idea what the hell else I was supposed to do. My head throbbed from the whiskey. I'd nearly reeled on my way up to the attic to get this goddamn box, nearly tripped and fallen over a stack of empty cardboard boxes. Most unladylike.

It was a dark blue box, decorated with mystic pictures of the moon and sun and the like. Numbers were twisted into a breath of wind, which curled off just before green letters- "The Mysterious Mystifying Game".

But this was no game I intended to play.

Melissa had brought it with her when she came home from her college vacation. It was a prank from one of her friends- someone had given her it as a joke, and she'd left it up in the attic. She thought nothing of it, but the box had been plaguing my mind ever since she'd brought it. I had an insane curiousity to try it out.

And now, I really had a chance and a reason to.

I took a breath, and pulled the board out of the box. It was a wooden board, made up of oak, with letters and numbers and skulls painted on it. A heart shaped piece of wood fell next to me, and I picked it up. It was the thing I put my fingers on. I put it onto the board, and took a breath.

I, Spencer Hastings, was actually resorting to a ouija board.

I was that desperate.

I picked up the heart shaped piece, pressed it against my fingers, and set it down onto the board, which rested on my lap. My flesh crawled with shivers. I fought to keep my fingers steady. "Let's do this." I said under my breath.

I closed my eyes, even though the room was dark enough, and swallowed, iron determination overcoming my fear. I breathed in, out, in again, until I was sure my voice wasn't going to shake. "Is Maya there?" I asked, loud as I dared.

There was no response. I became acutely aware of a bead of sweat rolling down the back of my neck. I breathed again, trying to relax. I wouldn't get a good response if I didn't relax. _Do I want a good response?_

_Oh God, why am I even doing this? What's wrong with me?_

_I'm trying to talk to my best friend's dead girlfriend. Why? The supernatural is freaky enough as it is for me, but this is taking it to a whole new-_

The piece moved. Actually moved. I just about threw myself off the sofa. It jolted up, to the top left corner, next to the creepy image of a skull with devil wings. It was written in spidery black forked font.

"_Yes_."

I wanted to swear. Desperately, right then, I wanted to scream my head off and fling the board away. I imagined Maya was close to me, next to me, staring at me with dead eyes and rotted flesh and I couldn't breathe. "H-hello." I stuttered, heart racing ten beats a second.

The piece jolted again, immediately. Down this time, across a five-pointed star. "_Hello_."

I took a breath and tried to calm myself. "Maya, do you know who I am?"

The piece took off again, flashing beneath my fingertips, resting only for a second on each letter. It was really weird- the sensation of the piece moving, when I was doing nothing. "_S-P-E-N-C-E-R."_

"That's right, that's my name." I swallowed, knowing my legs were shaking uncontrollably. "Do you... can you see me?"

The piece flashed straight across. "_Yes_."

"Are you in this room?"

A little twitch to let me know it was the same answer. "_Yes._"

"Okay... uh... do you..." I didn't know what to say. But a question sprung to mind. "You miss Emily, right?"

The piece took off again, faster than ever. "_O-F-C-O-U-R-S-E."_

"She misses you too. Have you seen... Do you know how depressed she's been?"

"_Yes."_

I exhaled, about to say something again, but the piece began moving again, this time slower, as if Maya was taking time, thinking about her words. "_S-H-E-S-H-O-U-L-D-B-E-H-A-P-P-Y."_

"She should be, but depression isn't like that, right?" I said without thinking.

"_No."_

"_D-E-P-R-E-S-S-E-D-C-A-U-S-E-O-F-M-E."_

"Yes." I murmured weakly. "Yeah. Pretty much."

"_I-J-U-S-T-W-A-N-T-H-E-R-T-O-B-E-H-A-P-P-Y."_

I nodded. I couldn't believe I was actually having a logical conversation with a ghost. "What do you think would make her happy?"

This time the movement of the piece was very slow. I almost got the sense it pained Maya to say it. "_B-E-I-N-G-W-I-T-H-S-O-M-E-O-N-E."_

"Who?"

The piece scrabbled against the board, like she was vaguely irritated. "_D-U-H."_

"Seriously, who?"

"_D-O-N-T-B-E-A-D-U-M-B-A-S-S."_

I chuckled under my breath. "Still the same Maya, I see. But who?"

The piece tapped the board, like drumming fingers. "_Y-O-U."_

"Me?" I said, raising my eyebrows. "Me?"

"_Y-E-S." _The piece tapped slowly.

"Why me?"

"_Y-O-U-A-R-E-A-F-U-C-K-I-"_

"Maya!"

"_F-I-N-E."_

"Why me?" I asked, this time gentler.

"_S-H-E-L-I-K-E-S-Y-O-U."_

"If you're talking about the kiss, she'd had way too much to drink."

"_N-O-I-T-S-O-B-V-I-O-U-S."_

A pause, then "_I-C-A-N-T-E-L-L-W-H-E-N-S-H-E-D-O-E-S."_

"_H-E-R-E-Y-E-S-L-I-G-H-T-U-P-W-H-E-N-Y-O-U-R-E-A-R-O-U-N-D."_

"_Y-O-U-M-A-D-E-H-E-R-S-M-I-L-E-A-T-H-E-R-L-O-W-E-S-T."_

"_T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U."_

"Me? Oh... It's what any friend would do."

"_L-O-O-K-A-F-T-E-R-H-E-R." _The piece tapped slowly, illustrating some meaningful secret.

"I'll never stop." I promised solemnly.

"_G-O-O-D. T-E-L-L-H-E-R..."_

The piece stopped tapping for a few moments. "Maya?"

"_I-M-I-S-S-H-E-R."_

"_A-N-D-I-T-W-A-S-N-T-H-E-R-F-A-U-L-T."_

"Do you know who, er, killed you?"

A shiver passed through me at those words. I took another breath and tried to remain calm.

"_I-T-W-A-S-M-O-N-A."_

"Do you... remember what she did?"

The piece trembled underneath my fingertips. "_Yes."_

"What?"

"_I-A-M-G-O-I-N-G."_

"No, wait, I'm sorry, stay-"

"_P-L-E-A-S-E-T-E-L-L-H-E-R-I-L-O-V-E-H-E-R."_

"Of course." I whispered. "But you don't have to-"

"_I-C-A-N-T-S-T-A-N-D-T-O-S-E-E-H-E-R-D-O-I-N-G-T-H-I-S-T-O-H-E-R-S-E-L-F."_

I sighed, and nodded. "Me neither."

"_Bye."_

"Goodbye."

I pulled my hands away from the board with a sigh, and immediately scrubbed my eyes with my hands. Having a conversation with a friend's ex wasn't as bad as I thought.

Even despite the fact she was kinda dead.

**Emily POV**

Of all the places I'd chosen to go because of my awful memories of getting wasted, I'd chosen to go to a bar.

Just so I could get wasted again to forget these awful memories.

_Smart one Emily. Good move. As ever. _

"Shut up." I muttered under my breath.

I was nursing a tall glass of beer, sitting at the bar, bitterly staring into the contents. It was the only thing I could afford with the limited money in my bag.I'd nearly drunk it all, but I didn't feel remotely light headed enough for my liking. I just wanted to forget all the stupid things I'd done.

A tall guy with a slightly crooked nose and deep brown eyes took the seat next to me. I gave him a cautious look out of the corner of my eyes. He was handsome, in a way- the crooked nose led down to a full set of lips and high cheekbones on either side framed his face.

He saw me glance at him, and smiled like a little boy, turning to me. "Can I buy you a drink?" He asked, in an earnest deep voice.

I sighed, and turned to face him. "I'd love a drink, but I'm not on your team."

"That's all right. I just wanted to talk."

"I'm sure you did." I said sarcastically, motioning the bartender over. "Because that's all guys want to do with girls in a dark bar."

He laughed like a car engine, a big bass rumble. "Beer for me, and uh, one for my friend over here as well."

"Coming right up." The bartender promised.

"What's your name?" He asked, eyes twinkling.

That's the thing. He was smiling honestly, genuinely. He wasn't smirking or leering like most guys. He was obviously interested in talking to me, but his eyes were on my face, not my boobs or ass. I frowned. "First things first- are you gay?"

He blinked. "Well, aren't you forward."

"I like to be honest and say what I need to say before anything happens."

"No, I'm not gay." He smiled again.

"Then why exactly are you continuing to talk to me? Is this some kind of stupid guy plot? "Huh, one night with me and we'll have fucked the gay out of you.'" I imitated in a deep voice. "Is it?"

His eyes widened, and the easy-going smile flashed off his face. "No, no. Oh God. I'm sorry if you think that."

"Apology accepted." I said smoothly. "So, why are you talking to me and buying drinks? Are you this friendly with all the gays you meet?"

He roared with laughter. "You're funny." He chuckled.

"I try to be." I said drily.

He recovered, and took a swig from the drink the bartender offered him. "No, but seriously. I'm still talking to you because, uh, you see the girl over there in the corner? Brown eyes, brown hair, wearing the black beanie."

I peered through the darkened bar, cradling my beer in one hand, and glimpsed a girl blinking at me. She had big dark brown eyes, a tanned face and fly-away browny blonde hair which was stifled by a woollen beanie. Her eyes met mine, and she looked away, colour rising to her face. I laughed, a hoarse sound. "So she got you to talk to me, right?"

"Pretty much. Why don't you come and sit with us? I promise entertaining conversation, as much beer as you desire and perhaps even a few friendships forged on the side."

I thought about it. I didn't have really anything else to do that day. He was promising free drinks, and, well, the girl was kinda cute. I shrugged, and picked up the glass. "Why not?"

The girl looked practically ecstatic, and tried hard to smuggle it, pretending to gaze mysteriously into her glass. I smirked, and slid into the booth, a seat across from her. "How's it going?" I asked easily.

"Great. Everything is greeeat. How are you going?" She asked, her words a little slurred.

"Not too good. But that's life."

"Well, darlin," She said in a slightly patronizing way, leaning covertly over the table with twinkling eyes, "maybe we can make your day go a little bit better."

"Sounds nice." I murmured back, leaning slightly forward. "What've you got planned?"

She grinned, her eyes ablaze, and sneakily dipped her hand inside her pocket, rustling something inside. "Somethin' that'll give us both a bit of a buzz."

I knew exactly what she had inside that pocket. I stared at it for one, two seconds, my eyes unblinking. My hands were cold. My insides were numb. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck.

"Yeah, why not?" I replied with a cocky smirk, acting the jock.

_Just one little hit won't hurt._

_Only to feel a bit inside._

_Don't you want to forget?_

_Don't you?_

_This'll make your mind buzz out._

_This'll make everything go away._

_Promise._

The raven spoke in a silky tongue that wrapped around my brain and ears until I could hear or think no more.

**Five Hours Later**

The gravel was sharp and cold beneath my fingertips, and I pushed my hands down into it, causing my skin to sing as the small pebbles dug into the soft skin of my palm. It was painful, agreed, but not nearly enough.

The best part about where I'd chosen to fall down is that it was a couple of metres from any lampost, in a puddle of blackness on the road. If someone was coming fast enough, it'd only be a matter of seconds for them to see me. Maybe it would be too late.

_Hopefully_.

I couldn't remember much. _Wasn't that what I wanted_? Loose fragments flapped around my brain irritatingly. I could remember sex. Sex with the girl with the brown eyes, drugs, enough alcohol until I puked everywhere, a new experience, and the girl scornfully tossed me aside for being a pussy. And then. Hopeless wandering of the streets. Endlessly tripping over my own feet and trying to navigate down into the blackest night. Finally falling, exhausted, on a road with no light left. Nothing to shine in the choking dark.

That was just what I needed.

I wondered about my position. Right then I was lying down, my head uncomfortably propped against the matted gravel, my eyes staring out into nothing. I would be crushed under the rolling tyres. Or would I be flattened under the low undercarriage, choked by burning exhaust fumes, burnt by the boiling engine? What would be a more dramatic way to go?

It was funny. Funny that despite the amount of alcohol and drugs that I'd consumed, I could think so clearly and scientifically about it.

Hah. I choked a laugh. I couldn't let anyone know I was there.

I was just another shadow blending in on the road.

I was exhausted.

I heard a car's engine start up around the corner. And smiled placidly. _Am I brave enough?_

_Am I brave enough to sit here and let death come swerving round to meet me?_

_Shall we find out?_

I was playing the ultimate game of Chicken with deadly intent.

I closed my eyes, and listened. It must have been around one in the morning. The engine was the loudest noise, steadily growing louder. But I could make out a baby howling in the distance, like a forgotten dog.

_Ha ha. "make out". Get it?_

_Neither do I. There's nothing funny about it._

The car's engine was just close enough now. It was thrumming at full blast, charging down the road with intent. I grinned with my eyes shut. This was perfect. It would look like a complete accident.

_5 seconds away._

Will I see her?

_4 seconds._

Yes, I will, and it'll be so much better than anything here.

_3 seconds._

I won't have to answer to all my stupid mistakes here anymore.

_2 seconds._

I love you, Maya.

_1 second._

I'm coming.

My fists clench. Tires squeal. The engine roars. A voice yells.

And then nothing.

Darkness, no light. This was how I imagined it to be. Long darkness. A long time. Nothing.

I opened my eyes peacefully, a smile on my face.

_This is what I want._

And then pain splinters through me with a blistering fire and I scream, I scream louder than I ever have before. My eyes are still open. My arm is on fire. I try to wave it around, to scream again, but there are arms around me before I can even think. I fight the arms away, trying to put my own arm out. _Oh my God, flames, flames everywhere. Am I on fire? Is this what it feels like to really die?_

And sudden coolness. The flames evaporate. The pain fades.

My eyes are still open.

And someone stares back with a hopeless, knowing, worried, exhausted expression.

"Am I going to have to rescue you every night from now on, Em? Cause a little sleep would be nice once in a while."

**REVIEW PLEASE! I know I spent ages on it but that's cause I got critical writer's block and honestly spent a full minute smashing my head against the keyboard until I came up with this! I hope y'all liked it! Much love! xo**


	18. A Small Conversation

It was two weeks later.

Both of them were acting like nothing had ever happened.

Spencer was still going to school, and getting no sleep, and drinking way too much coffee. Emily was still staying at home, miserably watching her mom pack for Texas.

Emily had decided to go downstairs scavenging for something to eat at the exact same time Spencer walked into fourth period Calculus with the wish to sleep through the whole period quietly at the back of the room.

Emily's mom came bustling up to her as she stuck her head inside their massive fridge-freezer. "Em." She cooed. "Glad to see you're up, honey. Would you mind helping me shift this box?"

Emily pulled her head away, a sombre, sulky expression on her worn face. She picked up the box and began heaving it upstairs. As usual, her mom began talking to break the awkward silence. "I just got off the phone with the rental men- they said we can stay as long as we need, granted we pay the rent which we surely can do. I'm also looking for a job down there, which is going pretty good, I'm applying for four at the moment. And I'm looking for a college for you, if you know, you feel like going back to school anytime soon."

Emily's response was a tiny nerve twitching in her jaw. Her mom continued on. "Or we could get a private tutor. Damn, they're expensive, but I suppose it would be worth it for you if you really don't feel like going back. You need to continue your education no matter what. In fact, after we get some of the packing done, I'll go onto the internet and start looking up some."

Emily set the box down and mechanically turned around. Her mom gently pointed her in the direction of the other boxes. "I really do think this is going to be a good thing for you, sweetie. You'll get a whole new change of scene away from everything."

"Where do you want these?" Emily asked, surprised at how hoarse her voice was.

"Just in the hall."

Her mom was clearly waiting for her to say something. But Emily wouldn't allow her that pleasure. She pulled the box up, and headed down the stairs. Her mom followed her. "Sweetheart, don't you think it'll be good?"

Emily could feel the raven. Like a pulse, surging back into her system with every thought of moving that her mother sent into her head. She imagined blackness seeping into her veins, and shuddered. Her mother misinterpreted it. "Are you cold? How about you put something warmer on?"

"I'm fine."

"Then could I get your opinion on this?"

Pam Fields wasn't the most patient at the best of times. And now, Emily's stubborn refusal to admit they were moving was testing her nerve. Emily closed her eyes, and sighed. "Mom, I don't want to think about it."

"Don't you want to go?"

_God, how obvious could I make it? _"No. No I don't."

"Why not?"She snapped, obviously hurt.

Emily turned around and dropped the box. If it was an argument her mother wanted, it was an argument she was going to get. "I'd be lonely. Away from everyone I know. I'd be even more miserable. I want to live a normal life here. I can't run away from my problems, that's what you're making me _do_."

"It's just so you can get better treatment!"

"It's just cause I don't want to take my pills. So it's an easier solution to send me somewhere where I'll have no choice."

Emily's voice almost cracked on "choice". But she was holding it together and fighting back. "I'm trying to do what's best for you." Her mom pleaded.

"You have no idea what's best for me!"

"I'm your mother, of course I do."

"If you did, you'd let me stay here!"

"Why do you want to stay here? There's nothing for you here!"

"There's Spencer!"

She wanted to take it back as soon as she said it. Her mom's eyes bulged, almost comically, in a face of deep realization. Emily scowled, and tried to turn away. She didn't want to discuss this. Especially not with her mom. She was already regretting saying it.

Her mom caught her arm. "You're not saying... you mean..."

Emily said nothing. Her mom caught her breath, and stared at her intensely. "Is that what I think it means?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Emily said firmly. "I just want to stay here, okay?"

"Are you involved... romantically with her?"

Emily tutted, but her brain was working a hundred miles an hour. If she said no, her mom would probably just dismiss her wish to stay as sentimentality over an old friend, and still make her move anyway. But if she said yes... maybe... something could come out of this.

It would be a lie.

It would be a lie involving acting on both her and Spencer's parts.

So much acting. So much stress.

_But something in her pushed her, made the words slip off her tongue, made everything come out in a gabbled mush. "Yes. Yep, yeah, we are, that's why I don't want to move, I need to stay here, I need her, I need her... Mom."_

Her mom looked distinctly startled, to say the least. "Well." She breathed. "I thought Spencer was straight."

"I think she's bi." Emily replied, hating herself, hating the shivers up her spine.

"Are you sure this is what you want, honey? After Maya?"

Emily pressed her lips together, clamping everything down inside, swallowing. "I think it is. I think that Maya would want me to be happy."

It was out of a sappy love film. It was ridiculously stupid. She couldn't believe her mom believed it.

And yet she was already making plans. If her mom would let her stay due to Spencer, if Spencer was her lifeline, then she had to take it. She had to hold onto this chance. Spencer was the only way out.

She didn't love her. But if pretending to love her was what she needed to stay, then sure, she could do it.

She hated herself for analyzing her friend this way. It was such an Alison thing to do, to use someone. She'd never have thought herself to do that. But it was the only way.

Could she learn to love?

She could try.

So when Spencer came over that weekend, slightly worried by all the suspicious looks Mrs Fields had been shooting her, she sat on Emily's bed reading through her book boredly. Emily sat beside her, scrolling down Facebook. "Why do I even go on this site? No one does anything interesting." She whined.

Spencer shrugged, flipping the page. Emily closed the laptop, and chucked it away from her, sighing. "Hey. We need to talk."

Spencer looked up, her eyes wide with panic, then quickly masked with hostility. "No we don't. We haven't so far. We know what we're going to do."

"What are we going to do?"

"We are going to ignore what happened, and continue as we are now." Spencer said firmly.

"But..." Emily trailed off, staring at her hands. "I need to know something."

"Can we just leave it?"

"Please. I just need to know one thing."

"I said leave it, Emily."

"Just one thing!"

"No!" Spencer snapped, throwing down her book, evidently frustrated.

Emily frowned. "I need to know, I need to-"

"Let's stop talking about this! Please!"

"I don't want to!"

"But I do! It's better if we goddamn pretend like it never happened. Right?"

Emily lowered her head. Spencer was trying to win the argument, like she always did. Maybe this would be harder than she thought it would be. But she had a card up her sleeve. "I don't want to pretend it never happened. We need to talk about it."

Spencer's eyebrows practically flew up her forehead. "Why? It will cause nothing but trouble. It meant nothing."

Emily sighed, chucking her shoulders down. Spencer continued, in a softer tone. "Please, Em. Just forget. For me. It's better to forget."

Emily muttered something under her breath. Spencer leaned in closer to hear her. "What?"

"Why is it better to forget?"

"So that we don't have a mess between us."

"What if it's not a mess?"

"It will be." She sighed, exasperated. Then, "Why do you keep asking about it? What do you mean?"

Emily bobbed her head up, and shrugged. Spencer continued. "What do you want?"

"To know how you feel about this."

"About what?"

"All of this. The thing... we did."

"I feel we should forget about it!"

"Fine, then." Emily muttered, folding her arms grumpily.

There was an awkward silence, as Spencer opened her book again and began reading. Emily groaned, annoyed herself, and leant over, closing the book. Spencer glared at her. "What?"

"What if, what if I don't want to forget?" She asked quietly, drawing circles on her bedsheet with her finger.

Spencer froze. And blinked. And stared at Emily. "Why wouldn't you want to?" She whispered.

Emily knew she didn't need to explain herself by now. She gazed at her hands. "Em..." Spencer said, urgently. "Answer me."

Emily groaned. It was obvious by now Spencer wanted nothing to do with the entire business. Maybe it would be better if she just told her the truth. She inhaled, rolled her shoulders, and turned to the girl, sick of the lies that spilled like golden syrup off her tongue. She took a second to rehearse what she would say.

But the second drove Spencer insane, and with a loud, irritated sound, she leant forward and brushed her lips with Emily's, just meant to make a point, just meant to tease Emily, to see her reaction. "What?" She asked, once she'd pulled away. Her voice was lilting, gentle, teasing. "You don't want to forget that?"

Being like this to Emily felt mean. Especially after Maya. Especially after her drug-addled night, which Spencer couldn't stop blaming herself for. She still didn't know what had happened that night, other than Emily had gotten high in some way- it was obvious through her eyes. Emily had simply muttered something about brown eyes and slipped into a comatose sleep in the car.

But she enjoyed it. She wouldn't let Emily have the upper hand on her. Who was the one who'd led her on while being blindingly drunk? Emily. So, here was some revenge. It made them both as vulnerable as each other.

Now who'll be the one to win?

Spencer would. She did, with a smirk, moving away from Emily. "Too bad, sweetie."

Emily sat staring at her, her mouth wide open. "You're _mean_." She managed to say in a garbled hiss. "Why would you do that?"

"Giving you a taste of your own whiskey-flavoured medicine." Spencer snapped. "Cause that was the exact thing you did to me."

The words cut deep into Emily's conscience. They were vicious, acidic, burning within her, creating raw scars which she knew could never heal. "And this is why we don't need to talk about it." Spencer said, and picked up her book once more.

The raven came swooping in, thicker and faster than ever, and Emily bent with its presence, her back arched. "Are we... do you hate me?" She whispered.

Spencer sighed, and put the book down. "No." She replied. "But I have no idea why you're bringing this up, when I know for a fact you regretted it so much, enough that you left."

"I was confused. Not regretful."

"Confused about what?"

"How I felt. Cause of it all. Cause of Maya."

Spencer winced at the girl's name, and pushed the book to the side, scooting closer. "Tell me straight up. Do you like me?"

"I'm not good at doing things straight, Spencer."

It was a feeble joke but enough to make Spencer laugh just a little too loud. "Fine. Then just tell me."

"I... you're a dick."

"Irrelevant."

"Irrelevant." Emily mimicked. "You sound way too much like a robot sometimes."

"Emily."

"Yes! Yes, I do!" She blurted quickly. "I do. I do."

And it was as easy as that. Instead of her gut twisting at her sugar-coated rotten words, her back straightened, and she breathed for apparently the first time. She sighed, and rolled her shoulders, without her usual wear and tear. She raised her head, blinked. Everything suddenly felt a little freer.

"Great." Spencer said, her hands flopping by her sides. "Good. Glad we could establish that."

Emily just smiled, and breathed. She smiled. She actually smiled. She turned to Spencer, and smiled as easily as breathing. "Now it's your turn."

"I don't take turns."

"Did no one teach you sharing in kindergarten? God. You uncivilized swine."

Spencer shook with floaty, breathy, easy laughter. "I think that's the first time I've ever been called uncivilized."

"Everyone's too scared to tell you." Emily replied immediately.

"But you're not."

"I'm never scared of you."

"Why?"

She paused for a full few seconds of thought. "Because I have worse things to be scared of." She said slowly. "I shouldn't be scared of the person who drives those things away."

She tilted her head to see Spencer, who sat just a few centimetres away from her, who's eyes were focused utterly on Emily. There was a lump in Spencer's throat, and a song in Emily's heart. They smiled at each other, and both refused to look away. So they weren't sure who moved first. But Spencer's head definitely tilted at the first time. They agreed at that.

And they agreed they didn't know how it happened, and they agreed it was unplanned on both parts, but lips smashed into each other, and hands held onto each other with such care.

And as Emily lay back and closed her eyes, a thought flashed through her mind:

_Am I even lying anymore?_

**Review please! Love you all! I hope you're enjoying it... This might be one of the last chapters! We'll have to see :) x**


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